


Whispers From Long Ago

by Diamond_Raven



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cold Case - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Murder Mystery, Paranormal, Psychic Abilities, Sharing a Bed, child victim, non-graphic nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27456667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/pseuds/Diamond_Raven
Summary: When Detective Sergeant Arthur Pendragon is assigned to work a 20 year old cold case, he’s not excited. Making things worse is that he’ll have to team up with his ex, Merlin, who will assist him using his so-called psychic abilities. It also doesn’t help that Arthur’s sleep deprived after months of hearing voices screaming in his head, which tear him from sleep several times a night.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 134
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. A big thank-you to Royal_Ermine for providing Brit-Picking services for this fic.
> 
> 2\. This fic focuses on solving a cold case featuring a missing child (no sexual abuse). Feel free to email me if you’d like more information but I won’t be providing chapter specific trigger warnings.

Gaping at his father, Arthur doesn't know what part of this plan he hates more: the fact that Emrys-The-Con-Artist will be assisting him or that it's a 20 year old cold case which won't lead to anything except a heap of embarrassment because of Emrys' involvement.

His personal history with Emrys is a whole other problem but it's one Arthur would normally be happy to push aside. But this isn't a normal situation because his annoyance is also being fuelled by his sleep deprivation. All of that combines and makes him snap back in a way that's not appropriate for the professional setting they're in. "You can't be serious."

Uther sighs and clenches his jaw, clearly trying to stay as impassive as his role of Superintendent demands but having a hard time because of how ridiculous the situation is. "It shouldn't take too long."

"Even if it takes 5 minutes, that's too long. This is a waste of time."

Uther sighs heavily and briefly squeezes his eyes shut. "You know I agree with you but that's irrelevant. We're already committed and backing out now would be a public relations nightmare for the CID."

Arthur's reaching his limit. "Morgana's the one who got us into this mess and she can get us out of it! I'm not wasting my time driving all the way out to Worbley with that bloody con artist just so he'll humiliate me and the CID when he makes up some rubbish that turns out to be—big surprise—rubbish!"

The moment the final words leave his mouth, Arthur knows he's gone too far. No matter how sleep deprived he is, no matter what this opinion about a case is and no matter what he thinks of Merlin Bloody Emrys, he's at work and he's not only speaking to his father but also his boss and his behaviour isn't appropriate in that setting. Or really, any setting.

His eyes flashing, Uther glares at him and Arthur hurries to smooth things over before he gets disciplined. Having to deal with Emrys and a stone cold case are punishment enough. "I apologise, sir. That was uncalled for."

"You've been having a lot of outbursts lately. It's unacceptable."

Sighing softly, Arthur shifts his jaw, annoyed at himself. He needs to do a much better job keeping himself in check, even if those voices in his dreams keep screaming and waking him up every bloody hour of the night. "I’m sorry, sir. I've been having some trouble sleeping."

"Whatever it is, you need to sort it out. I won't tolerate such behaviour, especially from you."

Flushing, Arthur clenches his jaw. "Understood. I'll make improvements right away, sir." What those improvements are remain to be seen, but he can only deal with one problem at a time.

Uther gives him a hard look. "You can start by stopping your fussing over this case. None of your other cases are urgent at the moment so you have time for it. You're going to make arrangements with Mr. Emrys to go to Worbley some time next week. You will do your best to re-assess the case with fresh eyes, including any so-called insights that Mr. Emrys offers. There's no doubt those insights will lead to nothing, but you'll do your due diligence and once you've done all you can for Edith, you'll come back home and return to your other cases."

Arthur wants to keep arguing because giving poor Edith hope by pretending to take Emrys' information seriously will lead to nothing but renewing her heartbreak. But she's the one who had insisted on Emrys' involvement and Morgana's the one who had pushed the CID to re-open the case, so if things sour, it'll be on their heads and not Arthur's. Even though he thinks the whole thing is stupid, the situation is out of his hands. It's best to put on a smile and get this over with, no matter how much he hates the thought of being around Emrys again. "I'll do my best, sir."

"Good. And see to it that you fix whatever's causing your sleeping problems."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

* * *

When Arthur gets back to his desk, it's already covered in a dozen dusty boxes that contain the old case files. His first reaction is to throw them out the window, but that wouldn't be professional. Despite how much it annoys him to waste his time with this case, he sits down and starts pouring over the old, hand-written files.

Nineteen years ago on March 17, four-year old Tristan Thomas vanished while playing in his front garden. His mother, Edith, had gone inside for a few minutes to get him a snack and when she returned, he'd vanished without a trace.

For weeks, the local police and everybody in Worbley conducted a thorough search of the entire village and surrounding area. Alerts for the missing boy were broadcast all over Albion and every possible lead had been chased down but Tristan was never found. Edith didn't have any enemies, everybody in Worbley loved her and no viable suspects were ever identified. Tristan's father had died a few years before and neither he nor Edith had any extended family who could have snatched the boy. The case had run cold and after expending all the resources the CID could spare, it was officially closed.

Over the years, the CID had released computer generated photos of what Tristan would look like as he aged and random people from Worbley or the neighbouring villages would report seeing somebody who looked like him, but none of those tips ever led to anything. The case has now sat untouched for six years and there's no reason to re-open it, but here they are. The more he reads about the case and further cements his impression that re-opening it is a waste of time, the more annoyed he gets.

On his lunch break, Arthur steps outside to go for a walk and his annoyance makes him ring Morgana. If he has to suffer because of her, he's going to make damn sure she's suffering too.

Her first words are: "It's never good if you call me in the middle of the work day."

Shifting his jaw, Arthur glares into the distance as he stomps down the pavement. "Your ridiculous sympathy is going to send me on a wild goose chase with a con artist."

"You're still not sleeping well." Her tone is flat and it's not a question.

Sighing, Arthur shifts his jaw. "That's none of your business."

"Since I'm your sister, yes, it is. Are you still hearing that screaming in your dreams?"

Flushing, Arthur's throat tightens and he's on the verge of denying everything but there's no point because Morgana knows everything anyway.

His dreams have always been blessedly silent until a few months ago. That’s when he’d started hearing faint, whispering voices in his dreams but those were easy to ignore. But once those whispering voices started screaming, everything had changed. They aren’t screaming words; they just scream and wail like they’re being tortured. The same thing repeats night after night no matter what time he goes to bed or how exhausted he is. When it had first started, he’d been terrified and had called Morgana in the middle of the night, confessing in a shaking, choked voice that he thought he was going crazy. Morgana had tried to calm him down by reminding him that he wasn’t hearing the screaming during the daytime so he probably wasn’t going crazy. That was a little reassuring, but it did nothing to solve his problem.

Over the last few months, he's tried taking sleeping pills, meditating or altering the temperature of his bedroom to make things better. Unfortunately, the more relaxed he is and the deeper he sleeps, the louder the screaming becomes, so that's been a failure. The only change in recent weeks is that there’s now a soft, female voice singing some type of song with an oddly familiar tune but she always gets drowned out by the screaming so Arthur can’t use the song to cling to as comfort.

"Arthur."

He makes a face. "The sleeping situation hasn't improved at all. On the bright side, they’re not getting any louder because I don't think that's physically possible without my brain exploding. But that's not why I'm calling."

"I think it's time you see a professional. This isn't normal."

"Right now, it's irrelevant. What's much more relevant is that I have to go to Worbley to deal with a 20 year old cold case just because you let your sympathy overrule your common sense."

"Uther assigned you Tristan's case?!" She sounds excited, which doesn't bode well with Arthur's plan to make her suffer like he's going to suffer.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Oh, great!"

"No, it's not great. There aren't any new leads and to make matters worse, Edith will get her hopes up over nothing when that damn con artist feeds her some rubbish. Not to mention that I'll have to waste my time pretending to take the rubbish seriously."

"In my defence, she's the one who mentioned Merlin to me,” Morgana says. “She randomly came up to me after I finished the group session but I didn't bring him up. I know you don't believe in what Merlin does, but he's had amazing results in the past and it's unfair to dismiss Tristan's case just because of your personal beliefs. If nothing else, Merlin might be able to provide her with some closure and you being there leads credibility to the whole situation."

Irritation rushes through him and Arthur tightens his grip on his mobile. He hates that Morgana is turning the situation around to make it seem like _he's_ the unreasonable one. Not only that, but she's acting like Emrys will be the hero in the situation and Arthur's just going along as a piece of decoration. "I'm not going to sit there and support him while he pulls a con on a grieving mother!"

Morgana sucks in a sharp, angry breath and that’s never a good sign. “Part of your job is to support people who are grieving the loss of a loved one, isn’t it? Merlin’s job is exactly the same. Whether you believe in what he tells people or not is irrelevant. People are comforted by the things he tells them and it helps them heal. And just for your information; Merlin isn’t the type to give people false hope. He’s worked with the police for years and he knows how to do things properly.”

“He’s still a con man.”

“Stop being so ridiculously judgmental. You’ve never seen Merlin work and you have no idea what his track record is. If you work with him and you find problems with his approach, then you should bring that up to the CID. But right now, you’re being a judgmental prat because you’re tired and it’s really not appealing to listen to. Stop it.”

Arthur has to admit she has a point, but there’s no way he’s admitting that because she’d never let him hear the end of it. “I have to go.”

“You do that. And once you’re back from Worbley, we’re going to get to the bottom of this sleeping issue once and for all. Don’t even try to hide from me because I’ll just bring the entire NHS to you.”

Despite how annoyed he is with the entire situation, that makes him smile as he ends with their customary version of ‘I love you’. “Bugger off.”

“You too.”

Hanging up, he slowly walks back to work and mulls over the situation.

Unfortunately, he’s forced to admit that Morgana’s right. Her words aren’t just making him re-evaluate his opinion about Merlin working on this case with him, but his overall relationship with Merlin. He and Merlin had met one random night at a club where Morgana had introduced them, they’d hit off, had a one night stand and that one night stand seemed to have the potential to become a multi-night stand...until Arthur had found out what Merlin’s ‘job’ is and he’d immediately ended things.

He’s heard way too many stories where so-called psychics scammed people out of their life savings by telling them rubbish or generic information that anybody could figure out through cold reading. Then there are these supposed chatting-with-ghosts type people who prey on vulnerable people whose loved ones were victims of unsolved crimes and these con artists manipulate people into believing their rubbish while charging them atrocious fees. When Arthur had found out that Merlin works with law enforcement officials, he’d immediately been disgusted.

If anybody were to ask him—which nobody does because nobody knows about his and Merlin’s very short relationship—maybe Arthur would also admit that he wasn’t just disgusted, but also disappointed. He and Merlin had gotten along so well and it was a slap in the face to discover that Merlin is a manipulator who preys on vulnerable people to make a living. Not to mention that he enjoys turning Arthur’s profession into a joke.

But does he really? While Arthur knows psychic mediums are frauds because that’s a fact, is it fair to automatically assume Merlin is doing this out of malice? Plenty of people tell white lies to their friends in order to boost their confidence or preserve relationships. His uncle Gaius has been going to the same hairdresser for decades and always insists the man do ridiculous things to his hair. The hairdresser always grins and pretends he looks fabulous because Gaius would get upset if he didn’t play his part in preserving the fantasy. Arthur’s never minded what Gaius’ hairdresser does because he makes Gaius happy and the people who don’t like his hair can sod off. What if Merlin isn’t some malicious manipulator acting out of bad faith? It still wouldn’t sit right with him, but if Merlin’s motivations weren’t rooted in pure greed, that would change things. A little.

In any case, Morgana’s right. He’d been too quick to play judge and jury when it came to his and Merlin’s relationship. The CID isn’t made up of blundering fools so if Merlin has been asked back time and time again to assist with various cases, his approach has to have some merit to it. It’s actually embarrassing to realise that Arthur had jumped to conclusions before gathering any evidence, since his main accusation had been that Merlin does the exact same thing.

He has no idea if he wants to try salvaging his relationship with Merlin or even just their friendship—or if Merlin would even be interested in any of that—but now that he’s looking at the situation with fresh eyes, he’s not pleased with his own behaviour. That needs to change.

Thankfully, he’ll be forced to spend several days with Merlin during which Arthur can gather all the evidence he needs to support his initial conclusion or change his mind about things.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur’s even more tired than he normally is due to the incessant screaming waking him up four times throughout the night. The only bright side is that the woman singing had been a little louder and he’s on the verge of being able to make out what she’s singing, but she always ends up being drowned out by the screamers. But his fatigue vanishes when he reaches his desk and sees Merlin standing by the window, staring out.

Time to put this disaster into motion. “Hello, Merlin.”

Spinning around, Merlin smiles at him, but his smile is strained and he’s chewing on his lip. “Good morning, sir.”

The ‘sir’ throws Arthur and he’s left blinking at Merlin. It’s bizarre to be called ‘sir’ by the man who had spent hours fucking Arthur while he’d panted into his pillow. It’s a struggle not to flash back to that night and remember how eagerly he’d spread his knees, lifted his arse and met Merlin’s thrusts while making ridiculous sounds as Merlin’s cock had filled him.

Blinking rapidly and clenching his jaw, Arthur shoves those thoughts aside as he stares at Merlin and hopes he isn’t blushing. He has no idea what to say. Even worse, he keeps staring at Merlin’s strained smile and remembering how his smile had been much brighter after he’d collapsed on the pillow next to Arthur and they’d lain there, grinning at each other like saps as they’d gasped for breath.

Thankfully, Merlin saves him by gesturing at the chair across from Arthur’s desk. “May I?”

Right. They’re here for a case. A case that needs to be done quickly so Arthur can get back to normal. Or as normal as things are these days. “Yes, of course.”

They sit down across from each other and now Arthur finds himself staring at Merlin’s suit and tie. The suit jacket doesn’t fit him very well and his tie is a thin, limp thing that’s lost all semblance of life after having been washed dozens of time. But it’s nice that Merlin has dressed up for the occasion because it’s a sign he’s taking this seriously.

Merlin clears his throat, still looking nervous. “I realise this is awkward for both of us so I propose we keep things very professional and finish things as quickly as we can.”

Hearing Merlin say he wants to finish things quickly leaves Arthur with a weird feeling in his gut. It’s one thing for Arthur to want to get away from Merlin as soon as possible, but Merlin not wanting to be around him is a little hurtful. Then again, after the way Arthur had spoken to him during their last conversation, is it any wonder that Merlin wants to get away from him? Arthur really had been rude to him and while Merlin hasn’t done anything to prove Arthur’s assumptions wrong...he also hasn’t done anything to prove them right. So he should apologise for being rude and jumping to conclusions.

He discreetly glances around to make sure they won’t be overhead by his colleagues and keep his voice low. “I realise I was quite...harsh during our last conversation.”

Merlin’s eyes look sad as his jaw shifts. “Yes, you were.”

“It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions without any evidence. I was judging you based on the actions of others and that’s not fair. For that, I apologise.”

Raising his eyebrows, Merlin stares at him. “I...seriously?”

“Yes. However—” He fixes Merlin with a hard stare because he wants to make sure they’re on the same page. “—I’m not prepared to accept your word on the matter either. The best way forward is for me to see how you work and make up my own mind.”

A small smile appears on Merlin’s face, as if Arthur’s given him some hope. That’s premature, but Arthur’s already crushed Merlin’s spirit once and he doesn’t want to do it again. If he ends up continuing to believe that Merlin’s a con artist, he’ll let him know but he’ll do it a bit more politely before they permanently part ways.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate you giving me that chance.”

The ‘sir’ is still making Arthur uncomfortable. This time, he remembers being on Merlin’s lap while they made out on Arthur’s couch and Arthur had pulled Merlin’s hand out of his hair and down to his arse while whispering ‘Please fuck me’ against his lips.

Blinking hard again, Arthur transfers his gaze from Merlin’s lips—which can kiss incredibly well and taste so damn sweet—to his tie, which nicely cools the heat of his memories and lets him get back to work. “Are you familiar with the case?”

“Somewhat.”

“We’ll go over it in detail before we drive up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then Arthur’s at a bit of a loss because he wants to plan out what day they’ll drive up and figure out other details, but then he remembers he’s not talking to a colleague. Merlin isn’t a fellow DS. He’s a consultant. But not just any consultant. He’s a consultant who’s meant to be providing very specific services and Arthur has no idea how that’s supposed to fit with how he normally works. “Do you mind telling me how you...do things?”

Merlin frowns. “How I do what things?”

Making a vague gesture, Arthur tries to keep things on track. But having Merlin sitting right in front of him with those lips and those eyes and those ridiculous clothes that are hiding a body Arthur remembers so well is extremely distracting. “How do you work with the CID? How does that process work?”

“Oh! You’ve never worked with a medium before?”

“No.” And hopefully he’ll never have to do it again. No matter how distracting Merlin’s body is, Arthur tries to remind himself that this gorgeous man is probably also a con artist who preys on innocent people. But unfortunately, the longer he stares at Merlin, the less likely that scenario gets. But isn’t that exactly why certain con artists are better than others? Because they don’t look the part?

Bloody hell, he’s never going to get through this.

Thankfully, Merlin jumps on Arthur’s ignorance of this strange work situation and continues the conversation. “It’s simple. You should consider me as just another resource. Like your laptop.”

That’s strange enough that Arthur frowns at him. “You want me to treat you like...an inanimate object?”

Merlin chuckles. “Not exactly. But if you do get confused, it’s not the end of the world. Luckily, I don’t stop working if somebody spills coffee on me and I won’t run out of battery when you least expect it, so things should be fine.”

The humour makes Arthur’s lips quirk but seeing the warm smile on Merlin’s face reminds him of seeing that same smile when they’d lain in bed together and that brings those confusing emotions right back.

Maybe Merlin sees the conflicting emotions on his face because his smile slowly fades away and he gets back to business. “I’ll defer to you throughout the entire case. I won’t ask anybody any questions without your permission and I’ll follow your orders twenty-four hours a day. If I have any insights to offer, I’ll tell you first and it’s your choice what to do with that information. I take my work with the CID very seriously so you don’t have to worry about me running off and ruining the case. You’re in charge and I’m just a walking, talking resource.”

Now that they’re talking about Merlin’s pseudo psychic ‘abilities’, Arthur is getting annoyed again. “How do you get paid? Do you get more money if you offer me more of your so-called ‘insights’?”

He’s sure the answer is yes and that’ll confirm part of his original theory. It’s still possible that Merlin’s been conning his way into big pay cheques with the CID without jeopardizing cases. Again—that’s how a good con artist would work. Offer enough vague information so he gets paid well but the information doesn’t waste too much time and effort because it’s too vague to be followed up on.

Merlin’s jaw shifts and his eyes get hard. “No, sir. As I said, I take this work very seriously and I don’t abuse the situation. While I’m working a case, I get paid a basic daily fee that’s just enough that I’ll be able to pay my bills at the end of the month if the case requires a large portion of my time. That fee doesn’t change, no matter how much or how little I contribute to the case.”

That actually sounds fair but Arthur’s still annoyed because he can’t shake the insistent feeling that this must be a hoax and he’s determined to catch Merlin in the act.

But Merlin must still be annoyed too because he keeps defending himself, glaring at Arthur while he does it. “I have no way of knowing ahead of time if I’ll be able to contribute to a case using my abilities or not. It all depends on what information I’m given from the spirit throughout the case. Sometimes the information is useless or sometimes the spirit refuses to connect with me. But I always do my best to be as helpful as I can and I believe it’s fair for me to be compensated for the time I take away from my real jobs to do this work.”

Arthur scoffs. “Your real jobs? You mean the cons you pull on regular people?”

Merlin lets out an angry breath and continues glaring at him. “I’m a certified yoga instructor and I also teach meditation and spiritual healing—and I don’t care if you think that’s all a load of bollocks; a lot of people find it helpful. And I don’t con people into paying for more than they need. They pay for classes, I teach them things that might help them with whatever they’re struggling with and then we part ways. And I don’t use my other abilities to make money in any other aspect of my life except for my work with the CID. I’m not a con artist or any of the other awful things you accused me of being and I would appreciate it if you stopped with those nasty, baseless accusations.”

Blinking, Arthur stares at him. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He thought Merlin would start defending his decision to charge people outrageous amounts of money for pretending to chat with these ‘spirit’ things. But apparently Merlin makes his money teaching yoga and meditation...?

That’s...a perfectly valid and good way to make money.

But it just seems so odd for somebody to pretend to have such ‘abilities’ when working with the police but then purposefully decide not to use them to make money off the public. Merlin is either the dumbest con artist Arthur’s ever met...or he might not be a con artist? But if he’s not, then Arthur’s left still struggling to understand why Merlin is pretending that he can chat with spirit things in order to help the CID and get paid very little for it.

“That makes no sense,” Arthur says flatly.

Merlin rolls his eyes and gives him an unimpressed look. “What doesn’t? The fact that some people pay to learn how to meditate properly? I told you, I don’t care if you don’t understand the benefits of it but it’s helpful for a lot of people.”

“No, not the yoga or meditation rubbish. I’m talking about your work with the CID. If you make more money teaching yoga and other nonsense, then why are you wasting your time doing cases for much less money?”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Merlin’s back to glaring at him. At least he’s stopped calling Arthur ‘sir’, but that’s not as helpful as Arthur thought it would be. “The answer is right in front of you but you’re refusing to accept it. That’s fine, I don’t care. But you need to stop being so rude about this or I’m not working this case with you.”

There’s a clench of discomfort in Arthur’s gut, because Merlin’s right. The only reason Merlin would work these cases for little pay is if he actually thinks he’s doing something good. A new theory is forming in Arthur’s mind: what if Merlin honestly believes he can talk to ghosts? What if he isn’t trying to pull a con but he really believes some random rubbish that his imagination conjures up is ghosts talking to him and he thinks that nonsense will help with a case?

That’s an unsettling theory because Arthur doesn’t like the thought of Merlin being mentally ill. It’s difficult enough having to cope with the idea that Arthur might also be having some mental issues, but at least he’s willing to admit he’s crazy. If Merlin’s crazy but doesn’t realise he’s crazy, that’s a whole new set of problems.

But that still doesn’t explain why others in the CID have sworn up and down that Merlin’s helped with cases in the past. Arthur hasn’t looked into any of those cases, but maybe he should?

This whole situation is getting more confusing by the second. But then Arthur glances at the boxes on his desk and he remembers why he and Merlin are having this conversation in the first place. They need to focus on this case. And throughout the case, Arthur will get to see first-hand if Merlin’s crazy or if...

...well, there’s no other option. Because the other option is to accept that Merlin can really talk to ghosts and that’s rubbish. Arthur might possibly be a little crazy, but he has a ways to go until he’s at that level of delusion.

But Merlin’s still glaring at him and once again, Arthur’s gut twists a bit because he really had been rude. Sighing softly, he pushes everything else out of his head. “I’m sorry for being rude. This whole situation is very unusual but I shouldn’t be rude.”

Merlin clenches his jaw. “It would also be lovely if you stopped making assumptions about my life. If you have questions, just ask. But do it politely without judging me first.”

Arthur’s feeling worse by the minute. He’d hurt Merlin’s feelings—again—and he really needs to stop doing that because it makes his heart feel strange. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder, I promise.”

Letting out a long breath, Merlin nods at the boxes of files. “Can we go over the case? I have yoga class in a few hours.”

Right. Reaching for the boxes next to his desk, Arthur hauls the first one up.

“If I may make a request?”

Arthur struggles not to sigh too loudly. “What is it?”

“Please don’t show me any photographs from the crime scene and surrounding area. That’s very important for my process.”

His process. Wonderful. “Fine.”

He can’t believe this. This entire situation is a mess and it’s even worse now than it was before their conversation. Arthur is now annoyed at himself, he feels bad for hurting Merlin’s feelings, he’s confused over Merlin’s mental state and he’s also exhausted, not to mention his own mental state is also up in the air at the moment. To top it all off, he has to put on his detective hat and try to do his job properly.

Great.


	2. Chapter 2

The whispering starts just after his eyes are closed and he’s starting to drift off into sleep. It starts with one or two voices, whispering in hushed tones. The words are too quiet to make out, but they sound insistent.

Clenching his jaw, he tries to remain calm. He wants to fall asleep but when he’s asleep, the screaming will start. The hairs on the back of his neck are up and his stomach is coiled tight as he waits for the inevitable. But of course, nothing will happen until he’s asleep and he can’t fall asleep when he’s this tightly wound and listening to the stupid whispering. He needs to relax. But if he relaxes, the screaming will start.

He goes back and forth between trying to relax and lying in anxious wait until his exhaustion finally overwhelms him and he falls asleep.

* * *

The whispering voices are getting more annoyed. They’re getting louder and interrupting each other, as if they’re competing for his attention. As usual, there aren’t any images to accompany the whispers. Just the normal darkness that always keeps Arthur company while sleeping. The darkness used to be silent, but that’s no longer the case.

Even while sleeping, Arthur knows the screaming will start soon and he braces himself, fear running through him. He doesn’t want to listen to them again. The whispering isn’t so bad, but the screaming is horrible. Why can’t they leave him alone?!

Then the singing starts. It usually doesn’t start until the screaming has gotten started. That’s strange, but Arthur’s grateful for it. At first, her voice is so quiet that he can barely hear anything but he focuses on it rather than the annoyed whispering. Scared that the screaming will start any second, he begs the singer to be a little louder. He needs to drown out the screaming that will start soon. No matter how many times it happens, it scares him every single time and he’s tired of waking up scared with his heart pounding.

Please sing louder. Please, please, _please_.

To his surprise, the singer seems to hear his pleas and sings louder. That’s when Arthur finally recognizes the tune. It’s that children’s lullaby. ‘Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Papa’s gonna buy you a mock-ing bird.’

But her words...are wrong. She’s not singing the right words.

‘ _My little baby, best in the world. Mummy’s gonna buy you a pret-ty bird.’_

Thinking he’d heard wrong, Arthur focuses harder on the singing. Yes, he definitely heard correctly. She keeps singing those same words over and over again. Her voice echoes in his head, that soft, gentle tone repeating that line. The whole thing is strange but Arthur clings to that singing in the ocean of whispering. Oh, how he wishes he could spend the entire night listening to her repeating those words.

But as they always do, the whispering voices get louder and angrier. Their voices blend together so Arthur can’t separate any of them. He can’t make out any of their words, even as they get louder and louder. Eventually, one of the women starts to scream.

She screams and screams and screams. The high pitched sound vibrates through Arthur’s head and drowns out the lovely singing and makes him recoil with fear. Other voices join in and also start screaming and the sound fills Arthur’s head as his heart pounds and terror clutches him.

There’s so little difference between how he feels when he’s sleeping or awake that he sometimes doesn’t register he’s already awake—sitting straight up in bed, staring at his dark bedroom wall and gasping for breath as his body shakes and that screaming is still echoing, filling his head.

Letting out a sob, he clutches his head with trembling hands and curls up in a ball.

Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.

Why is this happening to him?! Why isn’t it stopping?!

He can’t keep living like this. What’s worse is that there’s definitely no doubt any more. He’s mentally ill. This isn’t just some passing phase. It’s not normal to hear voices screaming in his head every single night. When he comes back from Worbley with Merlin, he’ll have to see a doctor.

Just thinking about what his future will hold sends another shiver of fear through him and he squeezes his eyes shut as he struggles to keep his tears back. They’ll probably lock him up. He’ll have to take medication for the rest of his life. Maybe the medication will be so strong that he won’t be able to think or do anything. He’ll have to spend the rest of his life in a hospital, staring at a wall.

As the screaming slowly fades away, thoughts of his future keep his body tense with fear. Surprisingly, the woman is still singing that lullaby but that’s not enough comfort to make Arthur feel better.

* * *

A few days later, it’s time for him and Merlin to drive up to Worbley and deal with Tristan’s case. Or rather, deal with Tristan’s mother.

Arthur’s so tired and terrified of what’s waiting for him when he comes back home that he seriously considered calling in sick. But Merlin had already re-arranged his schedule, Edith is waiting for them and if Arthur stays here, he’ll have to see a doctor earlier. None of that is good so he might as well do this case.

Merlin’s waiting for him in the station lobby, wearing the suit jacket and tie from before. “Good morning, sir.”

Arthur tries to muster up a smile, but he’s barely managing to walk because he’s so tired. His head feels way too heavy and his feet are dragging along the ground a bit. Hopefully, his sunglasses will hide his fatigue a little bit. “Hello, Merlin. Ready?”

“Yes, but...are you feeling alright?”

So much for the sunglasses. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Let’s get going.”

Thankfully, Merlin’s only response is to frown at him before he’s bending down to pick up a small bag. Dragging himself outside, Arthur heads for his car and opens the boot for Merlin before collapsing in the driver’s seat. But as he sits there, listening to Merlin putting his bag away, Arthur’s eyes are sliding closed.

That’s...not good. They have a long drive ahead of them and if he’s already struggling to stay awake now, that doesn’t bode well for the two of them ever reaching Worbley in one piece. Damn it.

When Merlin opens the passenger door, Arthur glances at him. “Merlin, this might be a strange question.”

Pausing with his hands on the door, Merlin stays bent over and frowns. “Alright...”

“Do you mind driving?”

Merlin gapes at him while Arthur struggles not to fall asleep. “You want me— _me_ —to drive your car?”

“Yes.”

“The car that you told me not even your family members are allowed to drive?”

Groaning, Arthur glares at him. “Yes, Merlin. I’m exhausted and it’s not safe for me to drive but we need to get going. The only safe way for us to proceed is for you to drive, unless you got yourself a car over the last few weeks?”

“Nope. Tube’s still a lot cheaper.”

Whatever. Jesus, his head feels like it weighs twenty pounds. “Will you drive or do you want me to hire a car?” The CID would never reimburse that expense, but Arthur’s way beyond caring.

“I can drive.”

Thank God. Arthur’s moving so slowly that Merlin has time to come around to his side and open the door before Arthur’s even found the door handle. But instead of getting out of the way once the door’s open, Merlin’s frowning down at him. “If you’re not feeling well, we can re-schedule. Or just assign someone else to come with me. We both know this case is most likely not going to go anywhere.”

“I’m not shirking my responsibilities,” Arthur mumbles.

Sighing loudly, Merlin helps haul him out of the car and around to the other side. It’s embarrassing, but Arthur once again doesn’t care. After Merlin dumps Arthur into his seat, he gets back into the driver’s side.

Getting his seatbelt done up is a struggle, but once it’s clicked in, Arthur’s eyes close and he’s moment away from falling asleep. Even if he gets woken up by the screaming and makes a spectacle of himself in front of Merlin, he’s too tired to care.

As he starts to drift off, he waits for the whispering to start and the sound of Merlin starting the car. But neither happen. “Merlin, you do remember how to drive, right?”

“Of course I do. But...can I ask a favour?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve me having to move,” he mumbles.

“No, you don’t have to do anything. Your car just...it’s...do you mind if I use some sage spray in here?”

Despite how tired he is, he still gets offended by that. “My car doesn’t smell.”

“No, no. It’s not the smell. It’s...can I please just do it? I won’t spray very much and we can open the windows if the smell bothers you.”

Sighing, Arthur tries to shrug but that would take too much energy. “Go ahead.”

There’s a lot of noise as Merlin gets out and back in, then there’s a herb-like smell as he spritzes some scented stuff all over the interior of the car. Frowning, Arthur opens his mouth to tell Merlin that he’ll be personally cleaning his car if this stuff leaves any residue, but Merlin must see his frown.

“It’s water based,” Merlin reassures him, so that’s good.

Eventually, Merlin must be satisfied because the car finally starts and pulls away from the kerb. As they drive, Arthur drifts further and further off. Eventually, the usual whispering starts but so does the lullaby. Maybe trying to be helpful, she’s singing a lot louder than she usually does.

‘ _My little baby, best in the world. Mummy’s gonna buy you a pret-ty bird.’_

The same words over and over again, but Arthur clings to them as the sound of the car engine fades and he braces himself for the whispering to turn into screaming. He might be at the point where he’s tired enough that it won’t wake him up. He’ll just keep sleeping as he shakes with terror and makes a fool out of himself in front of Merlin.

But to his surprise, the whispers stay whispers. They still sound angry and insistent, but they don’t start screaming. There also seem to be fewer of them than before. Making things even better is that the lullaby stays nice and loud as her echoing voice fills Arthur’s head.

Oh, this is wonderful! He has no idea what caused this change, but it’s amazing. It’s also a very good sign because it might mean this illness is just temporary and he won’t lose his entire life when he comes back home. But right now, none of that matters. Focusing on the lullaby allows him to ignore the whispering completely and he just floats in that warm, comfortable darkness as he sleeps.

* * *

When he wakes up, he feels more refreshed than he has in weeks, which is amazing. The first thing he notices is that the car is turned off but when Arthur glances around, it seems they’re in the middle of the countryside, parked on the side of the road. There are endless rolling hills on both sides of them and low stone fences, but it’s definitely not Worbley.

Merlin’s sitting in the driver’s seat, scrolling through his phone.

“Did you get us lost?” Arthur asks, frowning at him as he sits up from his very comfortable slouch.

“Nope. We’re ten minutes away but you need more sleep and once we get there, you’ll insist on getting to work so this is my way of forcing you to get more rest.”

Annoyed, Arthur glares at him. “We’re working on a case, not out for a Sunday drive. This is completely unprofessional.”

Merlin meets his glare straight on. “No. What’s unprofessional is that you’re badly sleep deprived and you’re still insisting on doing this case. Do you have any idea what you look like? You look like you got run over by a herd of elephants. You’re the one who insisted on doing this case now when you’re in no condition to be working so don’t you _dare_ get annoyed with me.”

That’s a fair point and Arthur shifts his jaw as he tries to think of something to retort, but comes up empty. His head’s still thick from the delicious sleep he’d been enjoying and he could really do with more of it.

But Merlin’s not done yet. “What’s also unprofessional is that you’re likely to fall flat on your face if you don’t get more sleep. That’s going to make you look like a fool, along with the entire CID. I think whatever you’re dealing with is making you too distracted to care about that, but I know you care and I care too so I won’t let you make a fool out of yourself or the CID.”

Those are more good points and now Arthur’s annoyed at himself. Clenching his jaw, he turns to glare through the windscreen as he acknowledges how right Merlin is. He would make an idiot out of himself if he met Edith or anybody else in Worbley being as tired as he is right now. Things have definitely improved after his nap, but he’s still feeling woozy. The chance of him making a mess out of this case and embarrassing himself and the CID are still high. Damn Merlin for being observant and right.

Merlin sighs. “Look. Today’s plan was just to drive up, check in at the local station and get settled at the inn, right? There’s no hurry. Go back to sleep and once you feel ready, we’ll finish the drive.”

Making a face, Arthur frowns, torn over what to do. “It’s not right that I’m literally sleeping on the job.”

“You’re on salary and I’m on a flat fee, remember? We’ll still finish what we have to do today. Instead of you having a lie in that you badly need at home, you’re having one here. Besides, I won’t tell anybody.”

Arthur stares at him and when Merlin stares back, his eyes soft but determined, warmth spreads through Arthur. There are so many other ways that Merlin could have handled this situation. After noticing Arthur wasn’t looking well, he could have marched back into the station before they’d left and complained about Arthur not being fit for duty. He could have called in a complaint while Arthur was sleeping to report him for unprofessional behaviour. But he didn’t.

“Thank you,” Arthur says, truly meaning it. “Not just for this, but everything.”

Merlin gives him a soft, half-smile. “You’re welcome.”

Making himself comfortable again, Arthur closes his eyes and sleep starts to pull him under right away.

“Oh, Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you mind if I spray more sage? The...it’s...do you mind?”

“Sure,” he mumbles. He actually likes the herby scent and it doesn’t bother him. Then he realises that this was the first time Merlin had called him ‘Arthur’ instead of ‘sir’ and that makes him feel even better about things.

There’s the quiet sound of the spray bottle spritzing around Arthur’s car, then there’s silence as he drifts off again with the whispering and the lullaby keeping him company.

* * *

Arthur sleeps for a few more hours and it’s marvellous. The lullaby is a constant presence as the woman sings that line over and over again. He doesn’t even care that the words are wrong. The whispering is still there but it doesn’t turn into screaming so that’s wonderful.

Merlin seems pleased when Arthur wakes up and reports that he feels much better. He’s definitely ready to get back to work.

They drive into Worbley and stop at the local station to check in. It’s always awkward to come into a place and inform the locals that somebody in their community has gone over their heads and requested help from Camelot, but it’s not as if the local department had been doing anything with Tristan’s case anyway. Then they drive to Albion Inn to check in and have dinner before finalizing their plans for tomorrow.

Walking into the small bed and breakfast, Arthur smiles at the old woman behind the reception desk. “Good evening, ma’am.”

“Good evening, my dear! Checking in?”

Sticking his sunglasses on his head, Arthur nods. God, he feels so much better than he did this morning. “Yes, ma’am.”

Merlin steps up beside him and smiles politely as the woman flips through the thick notebook in front of her.

“Are you two alright sharing a room? We’re nearly at full occupancy.”

Freezing, Arthur stares at her. On one hand, he’s been enjoying spending time with Merlin but things are still a bit awkward between them. What will happen between them as the case continues is still a big unknown, but Arthur’s finding himself drawn to Merlin the same way he was at the club. That might create problems but he also hates the idea of Merlin witnessing his normal night-time routine if the screaming starts again.

She must see the look on his face because she’s quick to smile. “The rooms all have two single beds but I could put in a call to the inn down the road to see if they have more space.”

Arthur’s on the verge of taking her up on her offer, but Merlin’s shrugging. “I’m fine either way.”

Realizing it might hurt Merlin’s feelings if Arthur puts a fuss over sharing a room with him—especially if they’ll each have their own bed—Arthur pastes a smile on his face. “One room’s fine, thank you.”

While he’s handing over his credit card, a man’s voice suddenly pipes up from behind Arthur.

“Welcome to the Albion Inn! The rooms might be small but I guarantee we make the best breakfast around.”

Smiling, Arthur glances over his shoulder to greet the man who must be the woman’s husband...but there’s nobody behind him. Blinking, he frowns and glances around the small entryway. But no, there’s nobody there. But he’d definitely heard what the man had said. It had been clear as day. So where the hell did he go?

“Where did he go?” Arthur asks.

The woman’s putting his credit card through the machine and she frowns with polite confusion. “Where did who go, love?”

“The man. He just welcomed us to the inn.” He glances at Merlin, waiting for him to confirm. But Merlin’s staring at him, looking a bit concerned.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Merlin says.

Oh, shit. That’s not good. That’s not good at all! Frantic, Arthur stares at the woman again. Maybe Merlin’s having trouble with his hearing, but she must have heard him. The man had stood practically behind them. “How did neither of you hear him?! He welcomed us to the inn.”

Both the woman and Merlin stare at him. She looks freaked out and Merlin looks a bit contemplative for some stupid reason. Well, they’re probably concerned at this obvious sign that they’re both going senile, as they should be. “I heard what I heard. I don’t know how on earth neither of you heard or saw anything. He said: ‘welcome to Albion Inn’ and ‘the rooms might be small but I guarantee we make the best breakfast around’.”

Now the woman’s face is going pale and she gapes at him. “That...that’s my husband.”

Finally! Arthur smiles. “Yes, I assumed so. Where is he? I can’t believe how quickly he disappeared.”

The woman’s eyes widen and she looks ready to bolt out of the room, which makes no sense. “My husband passed on thirteen years ago,” she whispers.

For a moment, Arthur doesn’t understand what she’s saying. How is it possible that her husband died thirteen years ago when Arthur just heard him say something? That makes no sense. The poor woman must be further along in her path towards senility than Arthur thought. Well, as long as she can still run her inn efficiently, it’s fine. Good for her.

But then reality shifts and a cold shudder runs through him. If either Merlin or the woman had heard the man, the problem would definitely be with the one who hadn’t heard anything. But neither of them heard him. Which means...the problem is with Arthur.

His heart drops into his shoes and he stops breathing. The lack of screaming during his nap was a false positive. It was a momentary pause in his rapid descent into mental illness. Now he’s hearing things in the middle of the day; things that other people can’t hear. Those random voices that haunt his sleep are now barging into his waking hours and it’s only a matter of time before they’re torturing him twenty-four hours a day and consuming him.

He thinks he might throw up. Starting to shake, he can’t stop staring at the woman, who’s gaping at him, looking terrified.

Thankfully, Merlin saves them both by grabbing Arthur’s credit card and the receipt before picking up their bags and the key waiting on the table. “Thank you so much, ma’am. We’ll see ourselves upstairs. Do you serve dinner here?”

She blinks at Merlin and returns to the conversation with difficulty while Arthur’s still frozen with the horrifying knowledge that he’s definitely going crazy. Or he’s already gone crazy.

“I’m afraid not, love. We only offer bed and breakfast.”

Merlin and her prattle about something or other while Arthur stands there, wanting to burst into frustrated tears. Why is this happening to him?! His life will be over. A stay in a psychiatric hospital is definitely waiting in his future. How can he walk around when he’s hearing voices nobody else can hear?! What if they get louder and the screaming starts tormenting him during the day? He won’t be able to hear anybody in the real world. What if the screamers start talking to him as clearly as this last voice had? He’ll have to take medication and that will be the end of his career, social life and everything else.

The next thing he’s aware of, Merlin’s hauling him upstairs and shoving him into a room and onto a bed before kneeling in front of him. “Arthur? Talk to me, please. Tell me what’s going on.”

The concerned tone in Merlin’s voice is so wonderful. Arthur’s throat tightens and he wants to burst into tears and crawl into Merlin’s arms. But that won’t solve the problem. And the longer he sits there, the more his shock fades and the more appalled he is by his behaviour. Yes, he’s obviously mentally ill and it’s rapidly getting worse. This might be the last case he ever works on and he’s not going to end things by crying and carrying on about something that’s out of his control.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur meets Merlin’s worried eyes and pulls his lips into a strained smile. “I’m fine. It’s just my sleep deprivation. I guess I didn’t get all caught up.”

Merlin stares at him for a long moment but when Arthur refuses to say anything else, he sighs softly and slowly stands up. “Alright. Let’s get our things sorted before we go eat dinner.”

* * *

Having little desire to talk as he keeps remembering what’s waiting in his future, Arthur doesn’t even try to keep up with conversation during dinner. Once they’re back at the inn and getting ready for bed, Arthur forces himself into professional mode for a few minutes as they discuss what time to get up.

Then it’s time for sleeping and Arthur’s so scared that it’s a struggle not to burst into hysterical tears. He has no doubt that the screaming will be much worse tonight. Managing to mumble a ‘Good night, Merlin’ through his tight throat, he crawls into bed and squeezes his eyes shut, shaking.

* * *

His prediction sadly proves to be right. The screaming is louder than it’s ever been before and the lullaby is drowned out within minutes.

The angry screaming is so loud that when he’s torn from sleep, the screams are still going and he curls up with a loud sob, clutching his head as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Please stop,” he whispers through sobs.

His head is aching and the screams are tearing around inside his skull.

Then a small, familiar voice penetrates the screams. “Arthur! Arthur, can you hear me?”

Oh, thank God! Merlin will help him. Arthur has no idea how he’ll do it, but Merlin has to find a way to stop the screaming. “Please help me,” he chokes out.

“Do you need an ambulance?”

Maybe. Probably. But the thought of getting into that ambulance is terrifying because that will be the start of the end. He’s not ready for his life to be over. Please not yet. Please, please, _please_ not yet. Frantically shaking his head, tears stream down his face as the screams continue ringing in his head.

A hand rubs his back. “Arthur, are you hearing voices?”

Without thinking, he nods. “Yes. They’re screaming and won’t stop. Please make it stop. Please, Merlin.”

There’s a loud curse from Merlin, then the hand disappears from his back. Arthur’s left alone, curled up and shaking with terror as the screams continue tearing through his head. He feels so damn cold and alone. The lullaby’s gone, Merlin’s gone...he has nothing.

But then he detects a familiar scent. It’s that herby smell from his car.

“It’s the sage, Arthur. Try to keep breathing. I’m going to do my best to make them stop, alright? Try to keep listening to me. If I can’t make it stop, I’m going to call an ambulance, but I’ll stay with you as long as I can, I promise.”

Merlin keeps his voice loud enough that Arthur can hear him through the piercing screams and he clings to the warmth and affection in Merlin’s voice. Merlin cares about him and he won’t let Arthur succumb to this madness without a fight. Or at least, Merlin will try to make his descent into hell a little more bearable and Arthur’s so damn glad for it.

Merlin’s hands are on him and there’s a gentle hand rubbing his forehead before Arthur’s hands are being pried off his head.

“Hold this, Arthur. Don’t worry about breaking it, just hold it tight. Please.”

Without opening his eyes, Arthur clutches the cool, stone-like rod Merlin had wrapped his shaking hands around.

Then the bed dips and Merlin’s warm hands are rubbing his back again. “Arthur, can I hold you for a while? It’s fine if you don’t want me to, but the light shield will be more effective if we’re closer together.”

Arthur has no idea what Merlin’s talking about, but he’s desperate for Merlin’s comfort and nods frantically, still crying as he clutches the stone thing in his hands.

Merlin hauls him up with surprising strength and Arthur collapses against him, holding the stone object as he presses his tear streaked face against Merlin’s chest. After some shifting around, Merlin’s arms are wrapping around him and holding him tight as Merlin’s lips press to his temple. Arthur’s hands are being squished between his chest and Merlin’s.

“Hold the wand to your chest, Arthur.”

His shaking hands are clumsy and Merlin helps move them into a certain position. Arthur doesn’t care what the stone thing is supposed to be doing as long as it helps. He’ll do anything to make the screaming stop.

Merlin holds him tight and keeps him enveloped in his warmth as Arthur soaks up his comfort while the screams keep going and going and going.

But slowly, the screams quiet down. It’s as if somebody’s put their finger on the volume control and the sounds are steadily getting quieter. His head stops pounding so hard but that fear is still making him shake as he keeps his face pressed to Merlin’s chest, breathing in that herb scent and Merlin’s smell.

Merlin’s rubbing his back and as the screaming fades, Arthur begins to hear quiet words Merlin’s murmuring against his temple. “I ask that all unwanted energy leaves Arthur and myself, as well as this space. This is not not your time nor your place. I ask you to go and leave us in peace.”

He keeps repeating those words over and over again and although they make no sense, Arthur clings to his voice as he keeps clutching the stone thing. The screaming has completely faded away and he’s getting sleepy, but the thought of falling asleep and having everything start all over again makes him let out a fearful sob.

“Talk to me, Arthur,” Merlin whispers into his hair. “Did they stop?”

“Yes,” he chokes out in a tight voice. “But if I fall asleep, they’ll start again. I’m so bloody tired.”

“I don’t think they’ll bother you again tonight. It’s alright, you can go back to sleep.”

The fear of the screaming starting again makes him press his face harder against Merlin’s chest. “Please don’t go.” It’s pathetic, but he needs Merlin’s comfort if he has any hopes of falling asleep and facing his terror again.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll be right here and if they start again, I’ll take care of it.”

That reassurance floods Arthur with relief and he relaxes against Merlin as he closes his eyes. Within minutes, he’s asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time Arthur wakes, it’s to the sound of his mobile alarm ringing. That hasn’t happened in ages and it’s the most pleasant morning he’s had in months. Groaning, he opens his eyes...and that’s when he realises he’s still in Merlin’s arms and has spent the night drooling on his shirt.

The events of last night come back to him and Arthur flushes with shame as he untangles himself from Merlin’s arms and the blanket covering them. There’s something in his hand and when he looks down, he notices he’s clutching a translucent, white rod made out of some type of stone. He has no idea what it is but the smooth stone has become such a part of him that letting go of it feels strange.

Bloody hell, he’s made such a fool of himself. He can’t believe he spent the night crying all over Merlin. Speaking of Merlin, he must be exhausted from putting up with Arthur’s ridiculous behaviour because he’s still asleep, propped up against some pillows and snoring softly.

Grimacing, Arthur quietly crawls out of bed. He hopes Merlin will let him forget what happened last night. This is a new low for him. It had been embarrassing enough to call Morgana in the middle of the night for comfort, but given their history, crying all over Merlin is much worse.

Groaning, Merlin opens his eyes and Arthur spins away from him, hurrying to his bag to pull out his clothes.

“Morning,” Merlin mumbles.

“Morning.”

“I didn’t even hear the alarm. Good thing your hearing’s better than mine.”

It’s on the tip of Arthur’s tongue to say that his hearing is actually a lot worse than Merlin’s, since he doesn’t just hear what’s happening in the real world but also things his mentally ill mind is conjuring up. The reality of the situation is sinking in again and as Arthur picks out his clothes, he debates what to do.

The responsible thing would be to have Merlin drive him back home, resign his position and check himself into hospital immediately. But just like yesterday, the thought of it makes his stomach clench and he has to force back tears. He’s not ready for his life to be over yet. Not yet. He’ll try to soldier on and finish this case. Then he’ll do the right thing and remove himself from society for everybody’s safety, including his own.

There’s shuffling behind him and Merlin pads over to his own bag. But instead of pulling out clothes, Merlin’s staring at Arthur.

“We should get going,” Arthur mumbles. “Breakfast, then we’ll go see Edith.”

“I think talking about last night should definitely take place before breakfast. Thankfully, we have time to fit it in.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Arthur keeps fussing with the clothes in his hands, too ashamed to look at Merlin. “There’s nothing to talk about. My behaviour was unforgivable. You were right when you said it wasn’t professional for me to take this case when I know I’m not fit for duty. But I really think I can finish this case and then I promise, I’ll do what I need to do.”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about. I think I know what’s going on and I want to help you.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Arthur struggles to keep breathing and not burst into tears. This is humiliating. “I’m well aware that I’m mentally ill. The progression has been more rapid than I anticipated and I know the responsible thing would be to go home now, but I really want to try finishing this case.”

“Arthur…”

Glancing at him, Arthur stares at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Merlin. You know they’re going to lock me up as soon as I show up at hospital and tell them what’s been going on. My life will be over and I don’t want the last thing people remember about me to be that I started a case that I couldn’t finish.”

Merlin’s chewing on his lip, but he doesn’t look sad about Arthur’s future. Instead, he looks a bit annoyed. “I don’t believe you’re mentally ill. I think I know exactly what’s going on with you and I can help you get your life back on track, but we need to talk about it.”

Sighing, Arthur squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “No, we don’t. I appreciate your kindness and what you did during the drive yesterday. I especially appreciate what you did for me last night. You’re a wonderful person and I don’t deserve any of it, especially after the way I’ve treated you. But I don’t want to talk about this. I want to focus on this case.”

“Arthur—”

“Please, Merlin. Please give me one more day. That’s all I ask. Treat me like I’m the detective sergeant I’m supposed to be, not some broken, mentally ill person.”

Sighing heavily, Merlin keeps staring at him for a long moment. But again, he just looks annoyed. It’s nice not being pitied, but Arthur doesn’t know why Merlin’s annoyed. It’s Arthur’s life that’s going to change, not Merlin’s.

Merlin lets out a loud, annoyed sigh. “Fine, have it your way. We won’t talk about it until you’re ready.”

Relief rushes through him. “Thank you. And if we have to spend another night here, don’t worry. I’ll get a room at the inn down the road.”

That makes Merlin snort. “Right. Of course, you will. You’ve got everything figured out. You always figure everything out right away, don’t you?” Rolling his eyes, Merlin grabs his clothes and disappears into the bathroom.

Arthur’s still puzzled by Merlin’s behaviour, but he’s mainly focused on himself. If today’s going to be his last day serving the CID, he’s going to do the best job he possibly can.

* * *

Breakfast is a strained affair and they barely speak as the landlady serves them coffee and takes their breakfast orders. Once the plates arrive, heaping with mounds of toast, bacon and eggs, Arthur digs in.

Out of nowhere, a man’s voice comes from behind him. “Our breakfast is legendary in these parts. I trust it’s to your liking?”

Arthur grins as he chews on a mouthful. The breakfast really does taste great and it’s lifting his mood. “It certainly is, thank you.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur’s eager to continue speaking to whoever’s talking to him...but the tables behind him are all empty. Oh, not again. Damn it!

“Arthur? Who are you talking to?”

Flushing, Arthur clenches his jaw. Why can’t the stupid voices leave him alone for one more day? But no. He’ll have to put up with hearing random voices throughout the day and then he’ll have to get through a night of horrifying, never-ending screaming when he’s curled up by himself in his new room. The whole thing makes him want to cry.

But...maybe there’s some hope? Maybe this voice had come from elsewhere in the room and it echoed strangely? The dining room is filled with other diners so any of them could have spoken to him. Staring at Merlin with wide eyes, Arthur grabs his last hope. “Did you hear the man just now? He said the breakfast is legendary and he asked how we’re liking it.”

Merlin’s face twists with complicated emotions as he lowers his utensils. “No, I didn’t.”

Fuck. Arthur’s heart sinks again and he drops his utensils, suddenly having lost his appetite. What difference does it make if he doesn’t eat today anyway? The hospital is going to force feed him if he stops eating so missing a few meals today won’t make much difference. Besides, he can’t keep eating this amazing breakfast because it’s just reminding him of hearing that man’s voice, which he shouldn’t be hearing.

“Arthur...” Merlin sounds exasperated and Arthur doesn’t want to hear it.

“Mind your own business, Merlin. Please.”

Merlin’s jaw shifts. “You need to eat. You’ve lost weight and you’ll need your strength if you’re going to do a good job on this case.”

That’s true, but Arthur won’t be able to eat another mouthful without being reminded of hearing that stupid voice commenting about breakfast both yesterday and today. Pasting a smile on his face, he tries to look reassuring. “I’m not hungry. I’m not the breakfast type.”

Now Merlin looks even more annoyed. “You were the breakfast type about one minute ago.”

Arthur’s getting really irritated at Merlin’s lack of sympathy and that makes him even more determined not to touch his breakfast any more. “I’m not hungry and you need to mind your own business.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, engaging in a battle of wills that Arthur’s determined not to lose. Finally, Merlin shifts his gaze to his own breakfast and stabs a piece of egg. “Fine.”

The rest of breakfast is spent in tense silence as Merlin keeps eating and staring at him with an unimpressed look while Arthur stubbornly ignores the plate of delicious food in front of him.

* * *

After breakfast, they go back up to their room and it’s Arthur’s chance to step back into his role as detective sergeant and get things back on track for his final day as a functioning member of society. Or at least, a partially functioning one. Sitting on the side of his bed as he does up his tie, he glances at Merlin. “I’ll lead the conversation when we get to Edith’s home, alright?”

Merlin nods. “Okay.”

“I’ll introduce us, explain that we’re there to see if we can make any advancements with the case and then...”

That’s when Arthur’s at a loss because that’s when Merlin’s ghost-talking will come into play and he has no idea how that will look. He hasn’t thought about Merlin’s ghost-talking in a few days and remembering that whole angle makes him uncomfortable. It’s one thing to deal with his own mental health issues today and to know it’s probably going to be the last day he’ll ever be a detective sergeant, but having to put up with Merlin’s ghost-talking will add an extra layer of annoyance that Arthur doesn’t want to deal with. Since he still isn’t sure whether Merlin’s ghost-talking is a result of mental illness, a well intentioned con or a manipulative con, the whole thing is stressful.

Thankfully, Merlin steps in. “With your permission, I’ll explain to Edith how my process works and I’ll be very clear when I tell her the results might disappoint her.”

Arthur stares at him. If Merlin’s doing this out of some misguided sense of sympathy or if he’s going to pull a con on Edith and the CID, it wouldn’t make sense for Merlin to outright say that his ‘methods’ might not result in anything positive. If Merlin makes up whatever information he ‘receives’, he could always create something positive out of it. This further supports Arthur’s belief that Merlin’s well intentioned but mentally ill. On the other hand, it still doesn’t explain why others in the department had found Merlin’s assistance with previous cases helpful, but Arthur’s starting to think that maybe his colleagues aren’t as good at their jobs as he’d believed.

“Then I’d like to see Tristan’s room,” Merlin explains. “If she’s replaced everything in the room, I’ll ask to see some of Tristan’s toys or clothes. That helps ensure I’ll be connecting with Tristan rather than somebody else. During that process, I’ll ask Edith to wait in another room because sometimes I need time to figure out what the spirit is trying to communicate and I don’t want to unnecessarily confuse her or get her excited over nothing.”

All Arthur’s hearing is ‘I really believe the voices in my head belong to ghosts and if they tell me something neat, I’ll share it with a grieving mother and a gullible detective.’ The whole thing is setting him on edge and he clenches his jaw. But no matter how he feels, he needs to stay professional because this is his last day on the job and he doesn’t want to be the reason that things go sideways so he pastes a strained smile on his face. “Alright.”

Merlin’s staring at him with an unreadable expression his face, but Arthur doesn’t care. It’s time to put this nonsense into motion and he’ll do the best he possible can to represent the CID well. On the bright side, the ridiculousness he’s going to witness for the rest of the day will nicely distract him from his own problems.

* * *

When they get to Edith’s home, Arthur rings the doorbell while Merlin stays half a step behind him and to the side.

The door opens to reveal a middle-aged woman who still looks remarkable similar to the case file photos Arthur’s studied. “Yes?”

“Ma’am, are you Edith Thomas?”

She frowns. “Yes...?”

Arthur smiles politely. “I’m Detective Sergeant Arthur Pendragon from the CID and this is—”

“Merlin Emrys, isn’t it?” A bright smile has lit up her face and she completely ignores Arthur as she reaches out for Merlin’s hands and squeezes them.

Annoyed, Arthur steps aside so Edith has better access to the person she’s apparently much happier to see as he pulls his badge out.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Merlin says, smiling as he squeezes her hands.

“Oh, I’m so happy you came!”

Merlin gestures at Arthur. “I’m only here thanks to the CID. They’re the ones who wanted to re-open the case.”

That’s a blatant lie, but Arthur appreciates Merlin’s gesture and it does make him feel good when Edith turns her radiant smile on him and also squeezes his hand, his badge squished between their joined hands.

“I’m so thrilled. Thank you, Officer.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

Stepping back and releasing Arthur’s hands, she gestures inside. “Please, come in.”

As they follow Edith inside, she keeps chattering about how glad she is that they came and how wonderful it is that the CID is willing to look at the case again. After showing them into the living room, she disappears into the kitchen to prepare tea, despite both Merlin and Arthur insisting it’s unnecessary.

Thankfully, Edith’s preparations are quick and Arthur isn’t left sitting in awkward silence with Merlin for too long. Once she’s back, they sit down for tea and Arthur’s mouth waters at the tray of scones she brought out. Unfortunately, he doesn’t want to give Merlin the satisfaction of seeing Arthur stuff himself with them when he’d made a fuss out of not finishing his breakfast, so he just takes one to be polite and tries to take bites that won’t insult Edith but won’t make Merlin give him more of those unimpressed looks that Arthur hates.

Then Merlin starts prattling about his ghost-talking rubbish again and that makes Arthur’s desire for the scone evaporate anyway.

“I want to be clear that I never know what type of communication I’ll get from spirits or even if I’ll get anything. I’ll do my best to connect with Tristan, but I won’t guarantee that I’ll get anything useful from him, even if he does decide to connect with me.”

Edith’s eyes look a bit sad, but she smiles softly while playing with her napkin. “I understand. Even if you don’t get anything that will help you figure out what happened to him, it would mean a lot to me if you tried.”

Merlin smiles. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“Will you at least be able to determine if he’s dead? I’ve accepted that it’s the most likely scenario but there’s a small part of me that always continued to hope.”

“That’s understandable.” Merlin sighs sadly. “Due to the nature of my abilities, if I’m able to connect with Tristan then I’m afraid there won’t be any room for doubt. It’ll mean he passed. I might not be able to determine when or how, never mind where his body is, but hopefully I’ll be able to confirm whether he’s passed on or not.”

Edith’s eyes are shimmering with unshed tears, but she looks happy. “Even if that’s the only thing you can do, it would mean a lot to me. That silly hope has been a hindrance more than a help.”

“That’s very common,” Merlin tells her.

“Yes, that’s what Morgana tells us in our group sessions. I know I should let the hope go but I can’t until somebody tells me that he’s really gone.”

“I’ll try my best to give you that confirmation.”

Once again, Arthur feels like a useless lump but he’s also annoyed at how seriously Edith is taking Merlin’s nonsense. It’s one thing for Merlin to take it seriously—either because he’s pulling a con or he’s suffering from delusions—but to see how serious Edith is about the situation is ridiculous.

But pointing that out wouldn’t be professional. He opens his mouth to ask Edith to show them into Tristan’s room so they can move this circus act along, when he’s interrupted by the sound of a young boy’s voice coming from the hallway.

“Mummy, I’m going to take Bubsy outside!”

Frowning, Arthur stares in the direction of the hallway. Edith’s file hadn’t indicated that she had another son. Maybe she’d had another son in recent years? And what or who the hell is Bubsy?

Strangely enough, Edith doesn’t acknowledge her son’s comment. She’s sadly staring into her tea cup but her thoughts must be on Tristan so it’s understandable that she’s not overly concerned about her other son at the moment. Then again...Tristan had gone missing while outside on his own so it seems strange that Edith is so relaxed about letting her other son go outside unsupervised. If it were Arthur, he’d never let his son out of his sight. But he’s already doing a lot of judging of people’s actions today, so he decides to keep quiet about it.

But what’s strange is that Merlin doesn’t react to the boy’s comment either. He and Merlin had discussed the case at length and Arthur thinks Merlin should be as surprised by the existence of the other son as Arthur is. Even if Merlin wanted to stay focused on Tristan, there should have been something in his body language that made him react, but there hadn’t been anything. Maybe Merlin knows something about the case that Arthur doesn’t know? That would be annoying, not to mention unprofessional on Merlin’s part.

While Edith is bringing their dishes back to the kitchen, Arthur glances at Merlin. “Did you know about her other son?”

Merlin blinks at him. “What? I thought Tristan was her only son.”

Arthur struggles to suppress an annoyed sigh. “That’s what I thought, but seeing how her other son just walked down the hall to go outside, we were both clearly wrong.”

Frowning, Merlin stares at him. “Did you...see this person?”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur struggles not to lose his temper. This day is difficult enough for him and he doesn’t need Merlin being an idiot on top of that. “No, I heard him. He just ran down the hallway and told Edith he’s going outside.”

Merlin’s frown disappears but unfortunately, it’s replaced by that strange look that Merlin’s given him way too often over the last twenty-four hours.

Damn it! Arthur knows what that means. Once again, he’s hearing things that nobody else can hear. Instead of being an old man’s voice, this was a young boy. It seems his stupid, sick brain is trying to give Arthur some variety in a silly attempt to make him feel better. But all it does is emphasize that he’s really, truly sick and that feeling of devastation rushes through him again and his throat tightens.

“Arthur, what exactly did you hear? How old did the boy sound?”

Squeezing his eye shut, Arthur tries to swallow through his tight throat. Why is this happening to him?! “It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.”

“No, actually it does matter. I need to—Edith! Thank you again for tea. It was lovely. Can I ask if you’ve kept Tristan’s room the way it was or have you changed things around?”

Realizing that Edith is back, Arthur quickly opens his eyes and focuses back on the case. From now until the end of the day, he’s going to ignore any voice that isn’t clearly connected to a person he’s looking at with his own two eyes. That’s the only way he’s not going to make a complete fool of himself.

“Everything is exactly the way he left it. I clean it once a week but I don’t move anything.” She smiles sadly. “It makes me feel better.”

Arthur’s heart twinges with sympathy at her pain, which makes him feel even worse about the entire situation. Edith is sad about Tristan, Arthur is sad about his bleak future and Merlin’s still continuing with his rubbish.

“Would you mind if the Detective Sergeant and I took a look at Tristan’s room? I’d like to start there, if you’re alright with it.”

Edith’s smile is back and she gestures around herself. “Please feel free to go anywhere you want. Tristan’s room is down the hall, the first door on the right.”

“Thank you very much. Do you mind waiting in the kitchen? I might end up connecting with multiple spirits and I’ll need time to sort them out and connect with Tristan—if I can connect with him at all. The entire process can involve a lot false positives and I don’t like getting loved ones excited over nothing.”

Arthur’s still upset over his own problems so he doesn’t get as annoyed over Merlin’s ghost-talking rubbish as he usually does. He just wants to get this whole thing done with.

Luckily, Edith seems happy to participate in Merlin’s charade. It reminds him of what Morgana had told him. Comforting loved ones who had lost someone due to crime is part of his responsibility and if listening to Merlin’s delusions helps Edith, then Arthur should be polite about it.

“I’ll wait in the kitchen until you call me.” Getting up, she disappears and that means it’s time to get to work. Or rather, Merlin pretending to work.

Getting up, Merlin glances at him. “Ready?”

No, but Arthur has to do this. Standing up, he heads into the hallway to find Tristan’s room so they can finish this clown show as fast as possible. As he’s striding down the hallway, he hears that boy’s voice pipe up from behind him.

“Mummy, may I have a bag of crisps? Bubsy says he’s hungry.”

Clenching his jaw, Arthur ignores it. How the hell did his brain come up with a nonsensical word like ‘Bubsy’?! Maybe his illness will eventually result in his thoughts becoming complete gibberish and that makes fear shiver down his spine.

When they reach Tristan’s old bedroom, Arthur reaches to open the door but Merlin stops him. “Wait. Just give me a few minutes. I’m already seeing a lot of memories and I want to verify if any of them are from Tristan.”

Arthur frowns at him. He’s seeing what?! Arthur’s not understanding what the hell Merlin’s talking about, but he’s too frazzled to analyse Merlin’s mental illness along with his own. At this point, he doesn’t care how Merlin’s delusions work. That’s not very sympathetic, but Arthur thinks it’s understandable.

Stepping up to the door, Merlin lays his hand on the wood and takes several deep breaths. His eyes are a bit vacant, as if he’s busy thinking about something other than the door he’s staring at. Merlin’s deluded mind is probably churning up a load of rubbish right now and he’s trying to pick which rubbish could be connected to a young boy Tristan’s age.

“I’m seeing someone running down a hall,” Merlin mumbles. “From their height, it seems to be a child. Their surroundings aren’t in focus—probably because they’re thinking about something else. I can’t tell if it’s this hallway or not. I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl either.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “If you’re ‘seeing’ somebody in a hallway, why on earth can’t you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Briefly closing his eyes, Merlin takes his hand off the door. “If you didn’t have such a rude attitude about my abilities, I would have gladly explained my process to you beforehand. Basically, I don’t ‘see’ spirits as separate individuals. Some people can, but that’s not how my abilities work. I see a spirit’s memories. I’m seeing the world through their eyes. In this case, I’m literally seeing somebody short running down a hallway and because he or she was distracted, they never formed clear memories of their surroundings. That’s why I can’t tell if they’re a boy or girl, never mind if it’s Tristan. I’m assuming they’re a child due to the height at which they’re viewing their surroundings, but that’s all. It could be Tristan or it could be anybody else.”

This is unbelievable. “I’m sure that information will be very helpful to Edith.” He’s not even trying to hide his sarcasm.

Merlin glares at him. “Try to be a professional for a few more hours. Then we can part ways permanently.”

Having Merlin point out that Arthur’s being rude again makes him feel disappointed in himself. He needs to remember what his role in all this is. His main objective is to walk away from this case having made Edith feel a little better about having lost her son all those years ago. Putting on a smile and pretending to be supportive of Merlin’s rubbish is a small price to pay. Sighing, he makes a face. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Please continue.”

Turning back to the door, Merlin resumes staring at it. Some time passes until Merlin shares more things his imagination is coming up with.

“I’m seeing someone with small hands sitting on a floor, playing with wooden trains. The small hands indicate it’s a child. But there’s nothing to confirm if it’s Tristan or somebody else...oh, here we go. The child is looking up. He or she seems to be in a bedroom...there’s a large window and a dresser on their right, underneath the window. Now they’re staring at a bed directly across from them.” Merlin’s frowning with intense concentration.

“The height of the bed in relation to their gaze confirms it’s a child. They’re staring at the bed and I’m getting some good details. The blanket is white and covered in different coloured fish. Red, blue and yellow. There’s a teddy bear sitting on the bed. The child is standing up and picking up the bear and sitting back down. The teddy bear is being put next to the train. The teddy bear is distinctive looking, so that’s good. It’s brown and quite tattered looking. The fur is flat as if it’s been washed many times? The left ear is missing, as is the nose. Well, the white muzzle’s still there but the black dot thing that’s usually a nose isn’t there. It looks odd but that’s good. That will be a good verification detail.”

Arthur’s kind of fascinated by the level of detail Merlin’s going into, but all it’s doing is supporting his belief that Merlin’s mentally ill. If he were doing this on purpose, he would have confirmed it’s Tristan. Not to mention that he would have made up visions that are actually related to Tristan going missing, not random memories of a child playing with a teddy bear and trains.

“With your permission, I’d like to enter the room now. I have enough details I can use for verification.”

Still not understand what the hell Merlin’s talking about, Arthur nods. “Go ahead.”

Opening the door, Merlin steps into the bedroom with Arthur on his heels. Glancing around, Arthur takes in the sunshine streaming through the large window with a wooden dresser beneath it. Then he glances at the bed...and freezes.

Because the blanket on the bed is white and covered in different coloured fish; red, blue and yellow.

That’s impossible. How the hell did Merlin know what Tristan’s blanket looks like?! Arthur knows for a fact that Merlin didn’t see any of the case file photos. Merlin had been so insistent that he didn’t want to see them ahead of time. Out of all the blankets in all the bedrooms of children in the entire world, how the hell did he come up with such a detailed description that turned out to be correct?

The hairs rise on the back of his neck and Arthur stares at Merlin, confused and also angry. “How did you know about the blanket?” he hisses.

In contrast to Arthur’s anger, Merlin’s smiling sadly as he stares around the room. But his smile fades at Arthur’s glare and he sighs, sounding annoyed. “I’ve told you a million times that I’m really a medium. Whether you believe that or not is irrelevant.”

“You obviously peeked at the case photos while I wasn’t looking!” He’s trying to keep his voice low, but it’s hard. All signs now point to Merlin not being ill but being a talented con artist and Arthur’s heart sinks with disappointment.

Merlin’s jaw shifts and he’s glaring daggers at Arthur. “When the bloody hell did I look at the photos?! You never left me alone with those boxes. You really think I could wander down to evidence storage, ask to take a look at them and be granted permission? Do you have such little faith in the competence of your colleagues?”

Merlin has a point, but that means Arthur has to think harder to figure out how Merlin is pulling off this con. The only other option is that Merlin had actually seen Tristan’s memories and that’s impossible. “You must have come here before or called Edith and asked her about it. You’re just using this rubbish to pull the wool over my eyes.”

Sighing loudly, Merlin squeezes his eyes shut before opening them to stare at Arthur like he’s the stupid one. “Did Edith act as if she’s met me before?”

“You would have told her to pretend that she’s never seen you before.”

“To what end?!” Merlin hisses out between clenched teeth. “You really think Edith is in on some con I’m pulling? What purpose could that possibly serve? Do you really think I go around, convincing grieving people to participate in cons that I pull on the CID just so I can share my little fee with them?! Are you really so arrogant that you think the rest of the world revolves around the CID?”

The way Merlin’s putting it sounds ridiculous, which it is. But as the options to explain how Merlin knew about the blanket rapidly fade, fear begins to creep through Arthur. Because the explanation that he’s always ruthlessly pushed aside is becoming the only one that makes any sense. Merlin really did see Tristan’s memories of his bedroom. But that makes no sense! It’s not possible.

Drawing in an annoyed breath, Merlin gives him a hard look. “Try to pull yourself together and just pretend that is all makes sense to you. Go along with it for a few more hours and then you never have to work with a medium again. We’re here for Edith, remember?”

Arthur’s brain is racing around in circles and he stares at Merlin, not knowing what to say. This whole thing is freaking him out but that fear is also making him angry. He’s never been in a situation before where he hasn’t been able to make sense of it. That’s part of why he loves his job. He takes complicated situations that have no clear answers and he figures out the answers. But he can’t do that here and that leaves his stomach clenched in knots.

Rolling his eyes, Merlin turns away from him and stares around the bedroom. “The blanket is good confirmation that I’m connecting with Tristan but it’s not enough for my liking. Let me see if I can find the train set or the bear. They were both distinctive enough to easily identify.”

While Arthur stands there frozen, Merlin moves around the bedroom and opens a wooden toy chest next to the door and rummages around inside. “Ah ha! Excellent.”

And he pulls out a train set. Arthur tries to console himself with the thought that many children have wooden train sets, especially twenty years ago before digital games became so popular. It doesn’t mean anything. But the blanket still can’t be explained.

Smiling sadly, Merlin looks at the string of train cars in his hands. “Yes, this was the one I saw Tristan playing with. I can feel him getting excited. He knows now that he’s connected with me. He’s showing me memories of him playing with other toys. That bear is always there.” Then Merlin frowns as he looks around the room. “Unfortunately, I don’t see it.”

While Merlin’s looking around and Arthur’s still frozen with a thousand thoughts bashing around in his head, that boy’s voice appears again, echoing all around him as clearly as if the boy were standing next to him.

“Bubsy, now it’s your turn to be the train driver, alright? We’ll go to Camelot. Let’s go! Choo choo! Choo choo choo!”

Once again, Arthur ignores the voice. Clearly, his poor brain has latched onto Merlin talking about the train set, which is why that’s been incorporated into his delusions.

Merlin’s wandering around the bedroom, peering into the closet and underneath the bed before turning to Arthur with a frown. “I don’t see the bear anywhere. The train set and the blanket were good verification, but that bear is so distinctive. With your permission, I’d like to ask Edith if Tristan had a teddy bear and ask her to describe it. I won’t ask any leading questions, of course.”

As the boy’s voice continues echoing around his head, Arthur manages to nod numbly and follows Merlin out to the kitchen.

Edith looks up as they enter and shoots them a hopeful smile. “Anything?”

Merlin grins, but it’s a cautious grin. “Maybe. It’s too early to tell. Do you mind telling us what Tristan’s favourite toys were?”

Arthur still can’t wrap his head around the idea that Merlin might actually be a medium. That mediums might actually exist. But if they don’t, how the hell did Merlin know about the blanket? Cold reading is one thing, but Merlin had nothing to go on. The bedroom door had been closed, he’d never been in this house before and he’d never seen any of the crime scene photos. He hadn’t asked Edith any questions related to the furniture in Tristan’s bedroom. Arthur doesn’t even remember if the blanket was clearly show in any of the crime scene photos, since Tristan had disappeared from the front garden and that’s where the bulk of the investigation focus had been. But there’s no way that people can actually see a deceased person’s memories!

He’s getting more uncomfortable by the second, until he focuses on Edith answering Merlin’s question.

“Oh, I remember all of the toys Tristan loved to play with. His favourite was definitely Bubsy.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh, I remember all of the toys Tristan loved to play with. His favourite was definitely Bubsy.”

That word instantly makes Arthur freeze as everything stops. He even stops breathing.

That’s impossible. He must have heard wrong. There’s no way Edith just said the same nonsensical word that Arthur’s been hearing in his head since coming into this home. That makes no sense. “I’m sorry, ma’am, do you mind repeating the name of it?”

Edith smiles sadly. “Bubsy. That was Tristan’s teddy bear. Well, it was originally mine. Poor Bubsy was already thirty years old by the time I gave him to Tristan but he loved Bubsy so much that he never wanted a replacement.”

All Arthur can do is gape at Edith. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. It’s like somebody took his batteries out and he’s just standing there in complete shock.

But Merlin doesn’t seem to notice. “Do you mind describing Bubsy?”

“He was a brown colour. He’d been washed so many times that his fur was very short and flat. Not very cuddly. One of his ears and the black dot for his nose got torn off in the wash before I started washing him by hand. The ear and nose disappeared in the machine so I couldn’t re-attach them but it never bothered Tristan.”

How the hell did Arthur’s imagination come up with that specific name?! And why just today? Right when they came into this house? Nothing makes sense and he’s starting to shake.

In contrast, Merlin’s smiling sadly. “Thank you. I’m now confident that I’ve connected with Tristan. Unfortunately, you realise what that means.”

Edith sighs and her eyes are bright with unshed tears, but she’s nodding. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, that was to be expected. In a way, I’m relieved. I don’t have to deal with that hope hanging over my head any more. Thank you, Merlin.”

“You’re welcome. I’m going to continue working and then I’ll share my findings with you. Even if I don’t get anything further that’s relevant to the case, I’ll be happy to share the memories that Tristan’s sharing with me, if you’d like.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, that would be lovely! Did you see him playing with Bubsy? Is that why you asked?”

“Yes. I also saw him playing with his train set in the bedroom.”

“Oh, he loved that train set!”

As the two of them continue prattling on and on, Arthur’s starting to feel a bit faint. His heart is pounding as fear shivers through him. How did he do it?! How did his brain come up with a nonsense word that also happens to be the name of a teddy bear that belonged to a boy who had died twenty years ago? He hadn’t even heard of this case until a few days ago and he’d never been to Worbley before.

Just like with the blanket, there’s only one explanation that makes sense but it’s the one explanation that shouldn’t make sense because it can’t be real. Arthur can’t possibly be hearing the voice of a boy who had died twenty years ago.

“Sir, I’d like to return to Tristan’s bedroom, if it’s alright?”

Realizing Merlin’s addressing him, Arthur gapes at him. He doesn’t know what to do. A part of him wants to beg Merlin for help because maybe he has an explanation. But he’s also terrified of what that explanation might be.

When Merlin strides out of the kitchen, Arthur stays frozen where he’s standing until Merlin reaches back and gives his arm a little tug. “Let’s go. I’ve gotten all the information I need from Edith for the time being.”

Arthur numbly follows Merlin back into Tristan’s bedroom. As soon as Merlin shuts the door behind them, he spins to face Arthur and his eyes flood with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Finding the words to tell Merlin the many things that are wrong is impossible.

“Arthur, you have to talk to me! You’re pale and you look as if you’re going to fall right over.”

“I...Merlin, how did I hear the name?” he whispers, his voice shaking.

Merlin frowns. “What name?”

“Bubsy.” His lips feel numb. “I heard the name in my head before Edith said it.”

Merlin’s eyebrow twitches and he looks thoughtful, which isn’t matching Arthur’s growing panic. “You mean when you heard who you thought was Edith’s other son? You heard him reference Bubsy?”

Nodding, Arthur stares at Merlin. Hearing Merlin laying out the facts like that drives home how terrifying the situation is. “How...how did I do that? How did my brain come up with that random word that happens to be the name of Tristan’s teddy bear?”

His eyes growing soft, Merlin smiles. “Well, it turns out my hunch as right.” Grabbing Arthur’s hands, Merlin squeezes them gently. “Arthur, I know this is very overwhelming. You’ve never believed in mediums before and now you’re dealing with a huge shift in your reality. I know you’re an intelligent, logical man and you’re struggling to make sense of what’s happening and the conclusions you’re coming to don’t match up with what you know of the world.”

None of that is helping. Arthur’s been desperately hoping that Merlin will come up with a rational explanation. Maybe Edith had mentioned the word Bubsy while they were having tea and Arthur hadn’t been paying attention but his subconscious had grabbed hold of it. Anything is preferable to Merlin’s other explanation. Because there’s no way Merlin’s a medium and there’s absolutely no way that Arthur is one too. “I can’t...this doesn’t make any sense.”

Merlin squeezes his hands tighter and stares at him intently. “You’re in shock. Let me tell Edith I’m not feeling well and we’ll go back to the inn, grab our things and I’ll drive you home. I’ll come back to finish the case with somebody else.”

A part of Arthur wants to jump at Merlin’s offer. Leaving this case behind and getting back to his normal life will allow him to forget about what happened today.

But then he remembers the voices. They’ll continue to haunt him day and night and what if he gets more evidence that the voices actually belong to people who died long ago? People whose voices he shouldn’t be hearing? How will Arthur ever get back to his normal life without using medication to make them leave him alone?

And a small part of him is also frustrated. He’s never run away from a confusing situation before. Sticking his head into the sand is foolish and childish. That’s not what he wants. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. So the only logical way forward is to gather more evidence to see if Merlin’s right about this whole thing. Maybe getting more concrete information that allows him to put this puzzle together properly will let him move forward with his life? What that life will look like is anyone’s guess, but he refuses to leave these pieces lying around.

“I don’t want to quit,” he mumbles. “But...” The thought of digging deeper into this whole mess leaves him shaking and his stomach twisting.

“I know this is difficult,” Merlin says softly, gently rubbing his thumbs over Arthur’s hands. “If you feel you can handle it, I can try to prove to you that what I’m saying is true. I think once it sinks in for you and the shock passes, you’ll feel better than if you just ignored the situation.”

It’s nice that Merlin’s being so kind and willing to help him understand what’s going on, but it’s also terrifying. His throat is so tight that he can barely speak. “I’m...”

“You’re scared and that’s perfectly normal. I was too when I first started seeing the memories. I had no idea what they meant. I thought I was going round the bend too until I started making the connections and I spoke to experienced mediums who explained what was going on. I know how frightening it can be.”

The more Arthur thinks about this, the more scared he gets. “I...Merlin, I don’t want to hear dead people’s voices in my head.”

“Let’s take things one step at a time, alright? We’ll gather more evidence to make sure the whole Bubsy thing wasn’t just a random fluke. Then I’ll help you understand your abilities and how to control them. They won’t continue bothering you if you don’t want them to.”

Still shaking, Arthur clings to Merlin’s hands.

“Take a deep breath and hold it for five seconds. Follow my lead. Breathe in...”

Arthur sucks in a shaky breath.

“Now hold...five...four...three...two...one...and release. Good, now take another one.”

It’s a struggle obeying Merlin’s instructions, but after they’ve done five breaths together, Arthur’s focusing more on Merlin’s words and making his body do what it’s being told and he slowly calms down. That doesn’t solve any of his other problems, but his heart is no longer pounding so hard.

Merlin smiles softly. “Good. Now focus but keep your mind clear. Don’t think about your worries, the case, your future or anything else. Just keep looking at me and listen to your breathing and focus on me holding your hands.”

That’s surprisingly easy to do and Arthur’s getting such comfort from Merlin’s soothing, strong voice and the warm grip of his hands.

Out of nowhere, Arthur hears that boy’s voice again.

_“Bubsy, now it’s your turn to be the train driver, alright? We’ll go to Camelot. Let’s go! Choo choo! Choo choo choo!”_

Thinking about the voice belonging to a boy who died two decades ago is incredibly creepy and his heart picks up speed as fear rushes through him.

“Did you hear something?” Merlin asks him quietly.

“Yes,” Arthur whispers in a faint voice. “It’s the young boy from before. He’s telling Bubsy that it’s his turn to drive the train. They’re going to Camelot and he’s making choo-choo sounds.”

Merlin smiles. “That’s Tristan. You’re hearing his memories; the things he said while he was in this room.”

“It’s...creepy.”

“I know it feels strange. Think of it as Tristan sharing important memories with you. His time in our world was cut short but his spirit will always be here as he relives the life he led. You’re hearing an echo of Tristan’s spirit.”

It’s still creepy and Arthur doesn’t like it one bit, but all he can do is helplessly stare at Merlin.

“I’m seeing him playing with his trains again,” Merlin tells him, smiling softly. “Bubsy is sitting next to him. I can feel how happy he is. Can you feel his emotions at all?”

Arthur shakes his head. The only thing he’s feeling is his own discomfort. “No. I guess he sounds happy.”

“Interesting. I can only see their memories but I can often feel their emotions. We make the perfect pair, huh?”

It’s nice that Merlin’s trying to lighten the mood, but Arthur’s too overwhelmed to do more than give Merlin a strained smile.

“Continue focusing on your breathing and push aside your own emotions. Think of yourself as a vessel that you’re emptying so you have plenty of room for Tristan’s memories. But don’t worry; I’ll help you shut them out when we’re finished.”

That’s easier said than done, but Merlin’s orders are the only logical things left in Arthur’s world so he follows them.

Once again, the boy’s voice—Tristan’s voice—pipes up as if he’s standing next to Arthur. _“Let’s put together our passengers for the train trip, Bubsy. I think we’ll take giraffe...and fire engine...and clock.”_

Now that Arthur’s fully paying attention to the voice, he also hears the sounds of somebody rummaging around. It sounds exactly the same as when Merlin had been moving things around in Tristan’s toy chest. “I hear...he’s saying something new,” Arthur whispers. “He’s putting together some toys to ride on the train.”

Merlin’s smile grows brighter. “Okay, good. Did he tell you which toys he’s using?”

“Yes. The—”

“No, don’t tell me. I want to use this as further proof for you. So he told you which toys he’s using?”

“Yes.”

Merlin squeezes his hands again. “Let me connect with Tristan and see if I can get that particular memory.”

His eyes go a bit vacant as Merlin stares at a point on Arthur’s chin. Not knowing what else to do, Arthur keeps staring at Merlin as Tristan continues chattering to his teddy bear.

_“Clock will sit right behind you, Bubsy. Clock is the newest passenger and he’s still a bit scared. But fire engine will sit right behind him and help clock feel better. And giraffe will sit in the back. He can see over everybody else because he’s got such a long neck. That’s because he’s a giraffe and they have long necks.”_

All Arthur can do is stand there and helplessly stare at Merlin while a dead boy’s voice continues talking to his teddy bear about something they did together twenty years ago in this exact room; in fact, right where Arthur’s standing.

“He’s...he’s telling me what order he’s putting the toys on the train,” Arthur whispers.

That makes Merlin grin. “Good! I think I’m seeing that same memory. But let’s be methodical about this because I could be seeing a different memory. I’m sure Tristan played with those toys a lot.” Releasing Arthur’s hands, he digs into his pocket and pulls out a pad of paper. Tearing off a piece, he hands it to Arthur. “Write down the exact order of the train passengers, including Bubsy.”

Grabbing the paper, Arthur’s hand freezes around it. He’s both excited and terrified. Merlin’s suggestion is perfect. Up until now, everything that Merlin’s seen and Arthur’s heard is very strange but Arthur could still make up crazy excuses. But if both he and Merlin are getting the exact same details about something in their heads...that won’t leave any room for excuses.

Merlin squeezes his hand, looking pained at the fear that Arthur’s sure is radiating on his face. “I know you’re scared. I promise that I’ll help you, no matter what happens here today. If we confirm that you have abilities too, I’ll help you control them. If you decide to go in another direction, I’ll be supportive of that too. You’re not alone in this, I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, Arthur tries to swallow through his tight throat. He’s shaking head to toe, but he has to do this. Leaving things unconfirmed at this point would make the whole situation worse. If Merlin’s right about this whole thing, that will also turn his life upside down but at least he’ll have a direction to follow.

Clenching his jaw, he pulls his pen out of his suit jacket and slowly scribbles down the order of the toys as his hand shakes. Tristan’s voice continues echoing in his head as he writes, as if Tristan knows how important this moment is and he wants to make sure Arthur won’t screw it up.

_“Clock will sit right behind you, Bubsy. Clock is the newest passenger and he’s still a bit scared. But fire engine will sit right behind him and help clock feel better. And giraffe will sit in the back. He can see over everybody else because he’s got such a long neck. That’s because he’s a giraffe and they have long necks.”_

Bubsy. Clock. Fire engine. Giraffe.

Once he’s finished, he folds up the paper and waits until Merlin is done writing too. Folding his paper, Merlin shoots him a gentle smile. “No matter what, I’m going to help you. Alright?”

As fear radiates through him, Arthur holds out his paper and numbly grabs Merlin’s. He’s so scared that he’s close to tears but his hands are opening the paper. And except for the writing style, the paper he’s holding is an exact replica of his own.

Bubsy. Clock. Fire engine. Giraffe.

This is insane. Everything about this—top to bottom, left to right—is insane. Getting Bubsy right is something that Merlin could have guessed. And Merlin had looked into Tristan’s toy chest so he would know what toys are in there. But to pick three random toys out of that chest and put them in the same order that Arthur had—that’s not a coincidence.

But what’s even more insane is that Arthur hadn’t looked into the toy chest. He had no idea if Tristan had toy cars, dolls, toy shovels, other stuffed animals or any other children toys in there. But the voice in his head had clearly told him the toy types and the order in which they were put on top of the train.

A train that a four year old boy had last played with twenty years ago.

His stomach rolls over and Arthur’s feeling like he’s about to throw up. Tears well up in his eyes and he’s having trouble breathing. “Merlin...”

Merlin quickly grabs his hands, but even that’s not helping as much as it did before.

Arthur can hear dead people’s voices. He can hear dead people’s memories as clearly as if they’re still alive and standing next to him. Tristan had last stood in this room twenty years ago and Arthur’s hearing his voice as if he were still here.

Letting out a curse, Merlin abruptly pulls Arthur into his arms and buries his hand into Arthur’s hair, holding him tight. “I know you’re scared, but I promise that it’s going to be alright,” he whispers against Arthur’s temple.

All Arthur can do is cling to Merlin as he shakes and feels sick with fear and discomfort. He doesn’t want to hear dead people’s voices. He can’t...this can’t be his life.

“I’m going to help you control your abilities, I promise,” Merlin whispers, his voice full of hard determination. “If you never want to hear Tristan or anybody else ever again, I’ll help you do that. No matter what you decide, I’m going to help you.”

For a long while, Arthur clutches Merlin and breathes in his familiar scent as he soaks up his strength. Slowly, he manages to calm down. Nothing about the situation has changed, but he’s becoming numb as his shock switches into a different state.

Merlin must feel that things are changing because he pulls back and stares at him, frowning with worry. “Are you feeling well enough to go? I’ll make excuses with Edith and we’ll head back to the inn and decide what to do.”

Arthur’s too numb to do more than stare at Merlin. The entire world has been yanked out from beneath his feet and nothing makes sense any more.

Grabbing his hand, Merlin pulls him out of Tristan’s bedroom and leads him to the kitchen. Gently dropping Arthur’s hand, he says something to Edith that Arthur can’t hear, then he’s being pulled to the front door, through the garden outside and into his car.

Somehow, they end up back in the inn and Arthur’s sitting on his bed with Merlin kneeling in front of him and holding a glass of water.

“Drink, please.”

His hand reaches out for the glass while his brain is stuck in numbness. He drinks the water and Merlin takes the glass from him.

“Are you hearing anybody right now?”

He shakes his head. His head doesn’t feel attached to the rest of his body.

Merlin’s staring at him, his face pale. “Tell me what you need. Do you want a snack? Do you want to watch telly? Do you want me to talk or stay quiet?”

Arthur’s numbness has one benefit. It’s allowing him to view the situation as if it’s happening to somebody else. None of it feels real and his brain starts to assess the situation logically. Merlin’s a medium. Arthur’s a medium. They can see and hear dead people’s memories. Merlin has always been honest about his abilities and Arthur called him a con artist and was horribly rude to him. This entire time, Merlin’s been supportive and kind while Arthur’s been rude. That’s not right. No matter what else happens, he owes Merlin a massive apology.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his lips numb.

Merlin frowns. “For what?”

“I was awful to you. Instead of reserving my judgment and asking for proof about any of it, I just called you horrible names.”

Sighing softly, Merlin gets off the floor and sits on his own bed, facing Arthur. “It’s normal to react to this whole thing with scepticism. A lot of people refuse to believe it, even when they get solid proof. It doesn’t help that a lot of people are truly con artists and take advantage of people.”

“None of that excuses my behaviour,” Arthur whispers. This whole situation is a mess, but now his heart is also aching because of how awful he’d behaved. “I’m really sorry. I should have been more polite when you first told me and maybe this entire mess could have been avoided.”

Merlin shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe you would have reacted negatively due to your shock. There’s no point in wallowing in the past. I forgive you and I think it’s important that we try to move forward.”

Having remembered that his rude scepticism over all this had led to the break-up of a potentially good relationship makes him feel even worse. But that’s not something he’s ready to deal with right now. Merlin’s probably just eager to get things back on track so they can finish this case and he can get back to his life and be around people who aren’t a mess.

That brings Arthur back to thinking about the current situation. Apparently, he’s a medium. Whether he likes it or not, he can hear dead people’s memories. It still sounds insane, even after having seen—or rather, heard—solid proof of it. Coming up with the word Bubsy randomly could be explained away. Hearing a young boy’s voice while investigating Tristan’s case makes a bit of sense. But having heard Tristan list those three toys in the same order that Merlin had seen them has no other reasonable explanation. If Arthur hadn’t heard it from Tristan’s memories, the chances of him and Merlin randomly writing down those three toys in the same order without getting any additional information from Edith is too much of a coincidence.

But the entire thing is still mad. How on earth is Arthur able to do this?! If anybody can hear or see dead people’s memories, how does he still have a job? Why isn’t the CID composed of mediums? In fact, why do unsolved cases even exist? True, he and Merlin hadn’t gathered any information today that’s helped them move the case forward, but that’s probably due to Arthur’s inexperience. “Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t understand why everybody else can’t do this.”

Merlin frowns. “Do what?”

Arthur makes a vague gesture. He still feels numb, but his desire to apply some logic to this confusing situation is pushing him forward. “Why doesn’t everybody hear or see dead people’s memories? Why isn’t the CID staffed only with mediums?”

“The science behind it still isn’t understood. The brain is an incredibly complex organ and we’re learning new things about it all the time and from what I understand, scientists think everybody has the potential to connect with spirits. Everybody has that part of the brain. But that part isn’t very active for many people.”

Arthur frowns. “But if my brain was always like this, why did this only start happening today?”

“I don’t think it just started for you today. But that’s a separate issue. To answer the question; scientists think that part of the brain develops at different rates for different people. Some children have medium abilities when they’re younger but they lose that ability as they age. My ability didn’t manifest until I was a teenager and yours only occurred recently. Nobody has clear answers as to why certain people develop those abilities and others don’t. Quite frankly, I’ve given up trying to find an explanation because it only frustrates me. I like dealing with concrete facts and not fully understanding it annoys me.”

That makes Arthur smile because that’s one thing he and Merlin have in common. “It’s funny. I thought you having these abilities meant you deliberately disregarded science and solid facts. Maybe that’s why I got so annoyed with you.”

Merlin chuckles. “Maybe. But trust me, I’m the biggest sceptic around. I never accept what I’m seeing from spirits without confirming every detail and I refuse to work with other mediums who do too much guesswork. Otherwise, there’s too much room for error.”

Arthur’s starting to develop a newfound respect for Merlin. This entire time, he’s been ready to dismiss Merlin as either mentally ill, a con artist, or a well intentioned fool. But it seems he’s none of these things. In fact, it seems that Merlin likes to work the same way Arthur does. “That’s a very sensible way of dealing with your abilities. I like it.”

Grinning, Merlin looks happy about the praise. “Thank you.”

Arthur’s shock is starting to fade and his brain is getting back into functioning order, which means the flood of questions he has about all of this are hitting him from all sides. “Can I ask more questions?”

Kicking off his shoes, Merlin slides up to sit at the head of his bed and puts up his pillow behind his back. “You can ask as many questions as you like.”

Doing the same as Merlin, Arthur makes himself comfortable before diving into his pile of questions. “You said you can see their memories and feel their emotions, right?”

“Yes.”

“I can only hear them. Is it different for everybody? Are there different variations?”

“The variations are enormous. Some people see the spirits as whole people, others can see and hear them together, others are like us and only get part of the memories. Some people’s abilities are very strong and they’re able to communicate with the spirit and ask to see specific memories. Other people are only able to receive the information that the spirits share with them. No two mediums have the exact same abilities. Because having these abilities is rare enough, that answers your question on why investigative units aren’t fully staffed with mediums. Another problem is that working with law enforcement requires a medium to have other skills. Many people aren’t able to work with the police properly and just create a mess.”

“How do I know if my abilities are strong or not?”

“I think the first step is to get you comfortable with this whole idea and to teach you how to block the spirits out so you can rest properly. Then we can work on experimenting with your abilities. Many mediums are also able to improve their abilities with time and training.”

Being reminded about his sleeping problems abruptly makes Arthur consider something new: what if Tristan isn’t the first spirit he’s ever heard? He’s been able to explain the memories associated with Tristan...but what about the other strange things that have been happening him?

He glances at Merlin. “I think Tristan isn’t the first spirit I’ve heard. I heard the landlady’s husband.”

Merlin grins. “Yes. That was the second bit of evidence that made me think your abilities were starting to manifest but you didn’t understand what was happening. You heard him yesterday while we were checking in and again at breakfast today, right?”

“Yes...what do you mean second bit of evidence? What was the first?”

“It was two things, actually. You were exhausted and when I got into your car, it was filled with negative energy. Seriously, it felt like running into a wall.”

Arthur frowns. The sudden shift in conversation is leaving his head spinning, but every word Merlin tells him makes him feel as if he’s moving closer to a solution that will help get his life back on track. “What do you mean negative energy?”

“Spirits are really just energy. You can call them souls or whatever else you want. They’re what remains in our world when their physical bodies die. Our energies or spirits stay in this world and drift around. People with medium abilities are able to sense this energy. But if a spirit is angry or very pushy and insists that a medium pays attention to it, or it’s a spirit from a person who was nasty in real life too, we call that negative energy. Basically, spirits have no right to barge into a medium’s head uninvited, just like a physical person isn’t permitted to barge into somebody’s home without permission.”

“But Tristan wasn’t being pushy. I don’t think he was.”

“There’s a difference between a spirit drifting into a medium’s head when the medium has no boundaries in place, versus a spirit barging past boundaries or taking advantage of a person’s lack of shields to be rude. If you knocked down the walls of your house, could you really blame strangers for wandering in accidentally or out of curiosity? If somebody needed help, they wouldn’t think twice about stepping inside and asking for your help. But if you have the right walls up, then the spirits should leave you alone. You may need to push back against some of them, but I can teach you how to do all of that.”

Arthur frowns. “Do you think my strange dreams are related to all of this?”

Merlin nods. “I’m fairly certain, but I’d like to know more about them. How did they start? Do they follow a pattern?”

“It started a few months ago. My dreams have always been dark silence but then I started hearing people whispering. I never heard what they were saying. They sounded agitated. Then a few weeks ago, they started screaming. Not screaming words, just loud screaming and wailing. The only positive part of those dreams is the singing.”

“What singing?”

“It’s a woman. She’s singing a lullaby. You know the one ‘Hush little baby, don’t say a word’?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the tune, but she uses different words. It’s the same song every night. Unfortunately, the screaming drowns her out and I can’t do anything to stop the screaming.”

Merlin’s face twists with sympathy. “That will change, starting from tonight.”

Excitement makes his heart skip a beat. Will he really get nights of restful sleep back? “Really?”

“Yes. There’s no doubt that the screaming is spirits. We’re most vulnerable to spirit communication when we’re asleep because our brain activity is at it’s lowest. You didn’t have any walls puts up to keep negative energy out and they pushed their way in and started demanding your attention. They’ve been horribly rude and we’re going to put a stop to it. But the singing woman...that’s a very interesting situation.” Merlin’s grinning.

“Why? Because she’s being nice and polite, unlike the others? I have no idea who she is. What am I supposed to do with the memory she’s showing me?”

Merlin’s grin grows wider. “Nothing. I think she’s showing you that memory because she’s trying to comfort you.”

Arthur’s still confused and he doesn’t understand why Merlin’s grinning. “Why are you grinning like that?”

Sighing loudly, Merlin rolls his eyes, a smile on his lips. “Come on, Mr. Detective. All the pieces are laid out in front of you. A woman is singing a lullaby to you every single night. You hear the memories of spirits who have passed away. Hmm, I wonder who the mysterious woman could possibly be.”

Abruptly, Arthur gets it and his breath catches. “My mother,” he breathes out. From one second to the next intense emotion overwhelms him and he’s left gaping at Merlin as his heart picks up speed. “You really...you think that’s my mother?”

Merlin smiles, his eyes shining. “I think so. You’ll have to confirm it, of course. But it makes sense.”

He’s never heard his mother’s voice before—his father’s always kept old videos of his mother locked away—but Merlin might be right! What if he’s really hearing his mother in his dreams? What if she’s really singing to him to comfort him?

“Arthur, please don’t get too excited. It’s just a guess.” Merlin’s frowning, looking at him with worry. “You need to confirm it somehow. I suppose there’s no harm in pretending it’s your mother if you want to, but if we can confirm it then I think we should.”

Arthur blinks, panting from excitement as his heart races. “Right. We should...we should confirm. We...” It’s a struggle to pull his brain back from the excited flips it’s busy doing, but this is important. He takes a deep breath. “I need to call my father.”

Digging into his pocket, he pulls out his mobile with shaking hands and dials his father’s number. It would probably be better to wait until he’s not so emotional, but he needs to know.

Uther picks up on the second ring. “Pendragon.”

“Father? It’s me.” He’s so excited that his voice is shaking.

“Are you alright?” His father’s voice is filled with worry.

Struggling to rein in his excitement, Arthur nods frantically. “I’m fine. This has nothing to do with work. I just had to ask you an important question.”

“You sound odd. What happened?”

His heart glows even more at Uther’s concern and he smiles. “No, I promise that I’m fine. But I’ve had...something amazing’s happened. Nothing to do with work.”

“What happened?”

Explaining the entire situation to his father right now probably wouldn’t go well because his emotions are all over the place. But he needs to know if the woman is really his mother. “I can’t go into details right now because it’s very complicated. But I need to ask you something about my mother.”

There’s a beat of silence from the other end. Finally, Uther clears his throat. “What do you need to know?” He sounds wary.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. I’m just wondering if...did she ever sing lullabies while she was pregnant with me?”

Again, there’s a short silence. Clearly, he’s taken his father off guard by the random question. “Yes, she did.”

He’s tempted to blurt out the words that he’s heard the woman singing, but he pulls himself back at the last moment. If he wants to get true confirmation, he can’t lead his father into giving him the answers he wants. Merlin’s taught him that. That’s the way a detective would handle the situation. “Do you remember any of them?”

While he’s waiting for Uther to respond, Merlin gets off his bed and sits on Arthur’s. Staring at him, Arthur’s glad to see Merlin grinning and looking just as excited as he is. Reaching out, he grabs Merlin’s hand and squeezes it.

“This all happened so long ago, Arthur.”

“I know, but it’s very important. Please, father.”

Uther sighs softly. “She wasn’t fond of the traditional lyrics. She’d always change them to something she found more to her liking. There was one that was her personal favourite. She made new lyrics for the entire song and she was very proud of herself. It’s the one that starts with telling the child to be quiet. And something about buying a bird?”

Arthur’s heart pounds harder and he squeezes Merlin’s hand tighter as he vibrates from excitement. Tears are welling up in his eyes from the many emotions pulsing through him. “Was it the one that goes ‘hush little baby, don’t say a word, papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird’?”

“Yes, that’s the one. But she changed nearly all the words. She didn’t like that it references me, so she changed it to...mummy? And she didn’t like the idea of telling you to be quiet. She didn’t care for the mockingbird bit either.”

Arthur laughs, his heart glowing. Uther rarely mentions his mother and he’s never volunteered such a personal glimpse into her life. But more importantly, things are looking very likely that he’s been hearing his mother singing to him every night. He just needs to confirm one last thing. “Do you remember how the changed words went? Just for the beginning bit?”

Uther lets out a long breath. “Let me see...I believe she called you the best baby in the world…? And something about purchasing you a beautiful bird or a—”

“Pretty bird,” Arthur whispers. He’s listened to the words so many times that he has no problem recalling them. “My little baby, best in the world. Mummy’s gonna buy you a pretty bird.”

This is greeted by shocked silence. Uther’s heavy breathing carries over the phone. “How on earth did you know that?! Did Gaius tell you? I had no idea he ever heard her singing.”

His father’s reaction gives Arthur the last bit of confirmation he needed. He’s been hearing his mother’s voice singing to him every night. It’s not just a figment of his imagination. It’s truly her voice and she’s sharing a precious memory that they had shared before Arthur was even born. He doesn’t remember the last time his smile had been so big and he shakes Merlin’s hand, who’s grinning back at him and also looking excited.

“Arthur? How did you know that?”

The panic in Uther’s voice calms Arthur’s excitement a little bit and he clears his throat. “It’s very complicated. I promise that I’ll explain everything when I get back home.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Arthur sighs softly, still smiling. “I don’t either, but Merlin’s helping me.” Merlin shakes his hand to emphasize his support and Arthur grins at him. “I promise that I’m fine and I’ll explain everything when I’m back home.”

Uther sighs softly. “If you’re sure everything’s alright, then fine. But we’re speaking about this as soon as you get home.”

“Of course.”

“Take care of yourself and call me if you need anything. I can be in Worbley within half an hour.”

Arthur struggles not to laugh. The only way Uther would make it to Worbley in that time is if he’s going twice the speed limit and that warms his heart. “I know. Thank you. I’ll come see you as soon as I’m back.”

“Good. Good night.”

“Good night.”

After hanging up, Arthur drops his phone and stares at Merlin. His father’s concern had pushed aside some of his excitement, but now it’s rapidly coming back. Grinning at Merlin, he jostles their joined hands. “I heard my mother’s voice!”

Merlin smiles, his eyes shining. “Yes, you did. I think she’s protecting her little boy, like she’s always done.”

Knowing the woman singing to him is really his mother changes everything. Up to now, the whole thing had seemed creepy but now Arthur understands Merlin’s viewpoint. It’s wonderful to know that his mother’s spirit is still here. Her physical body had left their world when he was born, but she’s always been here.

“I saw a memory she shared with me,” Merlin says quietly.

Arthur’s eyebrows rise. “Really? When?”

“While you were sleeping in the car and again last night. I saw a woman holding her pregnant belly and standing in front of an enormous window, looking out at a garden. She was rubbing her belly and she was so happy. I thought it might be your mother but I didn’t have any way to confirm it.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Arthur whispers. He can’t believe how much his entire perception of life has changed over the last few hours.

Hearing spirits voices isn’t creepy. It’s an incredible privilege. Hearing his mother’s voice is extraordinary and makes him feel more connected to her than he’s ever felt before. And he’s not just hearing the memories his mother is sharing with him. He’d heard the landlady’s husband greeting him and he’d heard Tristan playing with Bubsy and his train.

That actually dampens his joy at the situation a little. Knowing he’ll continue hearing his mother’s voice for the rest of his life means so much to him, but the inn’s landlady will never hear or see her husband’s spirit. Even though her husband is around her all the time, she can’t sense him. And Edith has no idea that her little boy is always with her, following her around their home. Uther will never get to hear his wife singing lullabies to Arthur, even though Arthur’s already spent weeks listening to her and will hopefully continue hearing her. Their loved ones are still here and want to interact with the people they’d left behind, but those people often can’t see or hear them.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks, frowning and jostling their hands.

“It’s a bit sad, isn’t it? We can connect with our loved ones but others can’t. Look at Edith or the inn’s landlady or my father. They all miss their lost loved ones so much and their loved ones are always around them and they’ll never be able to connect with them. It’s like there’s a permanent, soundproof wall between them that won’t ever come down, no matter how desperate we are to connect with them.”

Merlin sighs softly. “I struggled with that too. When I was a teenager and starting to get random flashes of other people’s memories, I was having a rough time with it because I didn’t understand what was happening. Then I started seeing the same memory over and over again. It was a man having a picnic in the woods behind our home in Ealdor. He was sitting on a blanket and a young version of my mother sat across from him and there was little, two year-old me sitting between them.”

Arthur smiles sadly. “Your father.”

“Yes. He passed when I was three so I don’t remember him at all. He was using those memories to give me comfort and I think he was trying to guide me towards understanding what was happening. Maybe your mother is trying to do the same with the lullaby. Anyway, when I started understanding my abilities, I got very sad when I realised my mum would never see the memories that I was seeing. But when I told her that my father’s always around us and I shared some of his favourite memories with her, that helped her feel better. It’s still not fair, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Arthur sighs. “Now I understand why some mediums spend their lives telling people what spirits are sharing with them.”

“It’s one way to even things out. I used to do it too but it got overwhelming. I had waiting lists that were literally years long and I hated making people wait that long. I was working non-stop and I was so exhausted that I started making a lot of mistakes. I wasn’t focusing, I wasn’t confirming my findings and it became a mess. I decided to use other methods to help people find balance in their lives if they’re struggling, but I love using my abilities to help the CID. Finding closure when a case runs cold is very difficult for people and I like to think my abilities can help, even if I can’t move the case forward.”

Merlin’s words are giving Arthur a lot to think about. Now that he knows about his abilities, what is he going to do with them? Is he going to continue letting random spirits share their memories whenever they want? There has to be a way to make the process more organized. Then he can use his abilities to help others in some way. Staring at Merlin with wide eyes, he squeezes his hand. “Merlin, can you help me figure out how to use my abilities properly?”

Grinning, Merlin nods. “Of course.”

“Obviously, you should decide whatever fee you think is appropriate.”

Snorting, Merlin rolls his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I don’t want your money for something like that. If you want to take one of my yoga classes, then yes, I’ll charge you the same as anyone else. But I won’t charge you for helping you with this. It wouldn’t sit right with me.”

Arthur’s so excited about the many possibilities in front of him that he wants to get started right away. “Can we start immediately? How long do you think it’ll take me to learn how to use my abilities?”

Merlin laughs. “Calm down. We need to take things one step at a time, alright? You’ve had a huge day. The first thing I’m going to do is teach you how to keep the rude spirits from bothering you when you sleep. Then we need to finish this case. If your abilities prove to be a hindrance during the case, I’ll teach you how to block Tristan out and we’ll finish this case just using my abilities. Once we’re back home and you’ve caught up on sleep, we’ll start training.”

Despite how desperate Arthur is to do everything at once, Merlin’s right. Having a restful night’s sleep without getting interrupted by the screaming needs to be his first priority, along with finishing the case.

Arthur makes a face. “While I don’t like that plan, it’s the right plan.”

“How about this? You follow my direction whenever we’re not working on the case and I’ll follow your direction when we’re working the case. Let’s see if we can fumble our way through this.”

Laughing, Arthur detaches his hand from Merlin’s and gives him a light push. “Speak for yourself, Emrys. I never fumble my way through anything. I’m always the epitome of professionalism and competence.”

Merlin grins at him. “Uh huh. Whatever you say.”


	5. Chapter 5

After dinner, they watch the telly, take turns having a shower and then it’s time for bed. Arthur had briefly considered calling Morgana to tell her everything that’s happened today, but all the excitement has left him even more exhausted than he usually is and he decides to wait until tomorrow.

Despite everything that’s happened today, Arthur is still anxious about the night ahead. Knowing that the screaming voices are the memories of deceased people doesn’t make him feel any better about having to hear them. Thankfully, Merlin remains firm in his insistence that Arthur will be able to shut them out.

“The first thing we’re going to do is spray sage around the room,” Merlin says, pulling the familiar bottle out of his bag. “I can sense some negative energy in the room that’s built up over the day, so I’m going to focus on spraying in those locations.”

As Arthur sits on his bed and watches him walk around, spritzing the air, he’s fighting the urge to dismiss it as rubbish. But as Merlin has told him a hundred times already, Arthur needs to do less judging and more asking questions. “What does the sage do? Is it just supposed to be a mental thing? Because I don’t know if I can do that.”

Merlin smiles as he sprays the herby scent all over their room. “A large part of this process is mental. You have to convince yourself that the steps we’re going to do will help you keep the negative energies out. If you’re filled with doubt, that will leave cracks in your protection grid and the negative energies will take advantage and seep in. But the sage does more than that. It’s a powerful herb and it absorbs negative energy.”

Arthur chuckles. “Maybe I should try bathing in it.”

Merlin laughs. “You could, but there are easier methods. The sage just disperses the stubborn clumps of energy that would require too much energy to get rid of in other ways. If you’re always maintaining a protection grid in your home, your car and other places you go, you won’t have to use the sage as much.”

Once he’s finishes spraying, Merlin stands between their beds and frowns around. “That’s better. I think I got all the big clumps.” He puts the spray bottle on the small bedside table between their beds and walks over to the window. To Arthur’s surprise, he sees the white stone rod lying on the window sill; the same one he’d clutched like his life had depended on it last night.

Merlin picks it up and his eyes go vacant as he frowns. “Good, that’s nicely recharged.”

Walking over to Arthur’s bed, he sits next to him and holds up the translucent cylindrical rod. “This is a selenite wand. Different crystals function the same way that sage does. They’re able to absorb negative energy. Selenite is even more powerful because it can be used to create what’s called a white protection grid around a person. Plus, selenite can be re-charged just by leaving it exposed to sunlight for a few hours each day. Other crystals require a lot more work to cleanse the negative energy that they collect.”

It all sounds insane...but then again, Arthur thought hearing dead people’s voices was also insane. A part of him wants to push back and declare that this is all nonsense. Spraying an herb around a room and holding a stone rod isn’t going to do anything. On the other hand, he remembers sleeping very well in his car after Merlin had sprayed the sage around, and he’d also slept well after Merlin had sprayed the sage and pressed the selenite wand into his hands last night. Once again, Arthur needs to pay attention and collect evidence before he makes up his mind about the situation.

Merlin’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow, as if he’s expecting Arthur to fuss, but Arthur quirks a smile up at him. “I’m practising being more open minded and this is me putting that into action.”

Chuckling, Merlin looks pleased by that. “Good. The sage and selenite seems to have worked well for you so far, so I’m hoping the results will be good.” Then his smiles fades and he looks serious. “But I can’t emphasize enough that these tools can only do so much. Your mental state is the most important part of the process. If you believe the tools won’t work, you can’t create a strong protection grid and the efforts will be pointless. You have to believe.”

Arthur smiles. “I’ve learned today that I’m capable of believing a lot of things that I thought were rubbish.”

“Well, let’s put that new attitude to the test, shall we?” Merlin picks up the sage spray bottle and spritzes it over the white rod. “First, we’re going to remove all negative energy that’s clinging to you right now. The sage did it with the room and now the selenite covered in sage will do it to you. It’s much faster than you bathing in sage.”

Arthur chuckles briefly, but he’s also getting a bit nervous because now it’s time for him to get involved in this strangeness. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just sit still. While I’m moving the wand over your body, imagine that the negative, rude spirits are being drawn out of you and sucked into the wand.”

Once again, that sounds bonkers, but Arthur has to give this a try. As Merlin slowly moves the wand over his head, arms, back, chest, stomach and legs, Arthur imagines all the dark, bothersome spirits that had clung to him and demanded his attention being pulled away and sucked into the wand, screaming in disappointment as they go. Arthur smirks. Good. Serves them right for being rude and not letting him sleep.

Merlin’s satisfied, he holds out the wand to Arthur. “Lie down and get comfortable. You’re going to hold the wand on your chest, pointing from your head down to your toes.”

Taking the cool stone rod, Arthur places it on his chest. “Do I let go of it or can I keep holding it?”

“Whatever you prefer. Do you want me to pull your blanket up?”

It should feel weird having Merlin offer to tuck him in, but Merlin is being so professional about all of this that Arthur refuses to turn it something weird. “Yes, please.”

Merlin pulls up the blanket and sits on his own bed. “Now close your eyes. Remember, you need to convince yourself that this is going to work.”

“Okay,” Arthur mumbles as he closes his eyes.

“Breathe in and out a few times.”

While he’s breathing, Arthur starts feeling anxious. What if this doesn’t work? What if the whispers turn into screaming again? What if last night was just a fluke and Arthur will have to spend the rest of his life listening to dead people screaming for his attention?

“Arthur, focus on your breathing, nothing else. Listen to your breathing...feel your lungs expanding with each breath...you should be able to feel your pulse as well. If you can’t, that means you’re still thinking about other things.”

It’s very difficult to push his anxiety aside, but Arthur wants to give this his best shot. If Merlin is sure that Arthur being distracted will be a detriment, he has to stop it. Merlin’s suggestion to focus on what his body’s doing does help. He listens to the different sounds as air moves in and out of his nose; his lungs expand and deflate with each breath; and when he pays even more attention, he can feel his pulse slowly thudding in his neck.

“That’s good,” Merlin whispers. “Now we’re going to work on creating your light shield. You’re going to repeat what I say and while you’re saying the words, you’re going to focus on the selenite wand in your hands and imagine there’s white light coming out of it and spreading around you and forming a strong shield. Nothing will be able to penetrate that shield.”

“Okay,” Arthur mumbles. He’s so relaxed now that it’s getting hard to talk.

“Repeat after me: I ask that all unwanted energy leave myself as well, as this space.”

“I ask that all unwanted energy leave myself, as well as this space.”

“This is not your time nor your place. I ask you to go and leave me in peace.”

“This is not your time nor your place. I ask...I forgot the rest, sorry.”

Merlin snorts with laughter. “I ask you to go and leave me in peace.”

“Right. I ask you to go and leave me in peace.”

“Let’s do it again.”

They repeat the chant three more times. On the third time, Arthur says it with Merlin. As he’s saying the words, he imagines that the crystal wand in his hands is emitting a protective white light over him which is forming a strong shield that will keep him safe.

The sage spray has blasted away the bad spirits that were waiting around the room to invade his mind while he sleeps and the wand had pulled away the ones that were clinging to him. Then he’d ordered them to stay away from him and now he’s created a strong light shield. Even if they try to sneak back in, they’ll bounce off his shield. He imagines what that will be like and smiles softly as he thinks about the pushy, aggressive spirits hitting the shield and hammering on it as they scream with frustration. But Arthur won’t hear them because he’s safe in his protection shield.

“Did you create a strong shield?” Merlin whispers.

“Yes...it’s shining as bright as the sun...and nothing’s going to get through it,” he mumbles.

“Good. That’s very good.” Merlin sounds proud of him, which makes Arthur feel even better about things. His selenite wand and him had created a strong shield that will keep him safe while he sleeps and Merlin’s also proud of him. This is wonderful. Then things get a thousand times better when his mother begins to sing to him.

“ _My little baby, best in the world. Mummy’s gonna buy you a pret-ty bird.”_

Her beautiful echoes around his head. She sounds like an angel. Together with the bright, shining shield that’s around him, it feels like she’s an angel who’s protecting him. He can’t see her, but her words are full of love and a promise to keep him safe.

And as he listens to his mother singing and focuses on the wand on his chest that’s emitting the powerful rays that are forming his shield, he quickly falls asleep.

* * *

Somebody’s gently shaking him.

Groaning, Arthur tries opening his eyes to see who’s trying to interrupt the best sleep he’s ever had, but he’s too tired to even do that. His face is mashed into the pillow and one of his hands is still clutching the selenite wand that’s underneath him.

“Arthur, if you don’t get up now, you’ll miss breakfast.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles. He’s not very hungry but he’s still very tired and he’s so comfortable. The bed is warm, his mother’s singing to him and he’s holding the warm, solid selenite wand squashed against his chest.

“Alright, I’m going down for breakfast. You sleep as long as you need. I’ll bring you a sandwich.”

“Okay.”

As soon as Merlin stops touching him, Arthur easily falls back into sleep.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, he feels more refreshed than he has in months. There’s no doubt he hasn’t fully caught up on all the sleep he’s missed lately, but this was a great start. Groaning, he rolls onto his back and slowly sits up. The telly’s on and Merlin’s sitting on his bed, doing something on his phone.

Merlin shoots a grin. “Good morning. I was starting to worry that you’d sleep straight through until it was time to go home. I might have been able to get you and the bed outside, but strapping it to the roof of your car would have been difficult. Not to mention that I might have been stopped by the local police and that would have been embarrassing for both of us.”

Arthur chuckles and drops the selenite wand on his lap as he scrubs his hands over his face. “I would have killed you as soon as I woke up, so it’s good thing it never got to that point.” He yawns. “Good lord, I sleep well.”

Looking excited, Merlin drops his phone. “Yeah? Any whispering or screaming at all?”

Shaking his head, Arthur smiles at him. “None. I heard my mother, but that’s all. It worked exactly like you said it would. I pictured the white shield around me and they couldn’t get to me.”

“That’s fantastic!”

Arthur grins. “I’m very fond of your selenite wand. Where can I buy one?”

“They’re not too expensive; you can find them online. But you don’t have to worry about it because you can have this one. I’m giving you my sage bottle too.”

Frowning, Arthur sits up straighter. “You don’t have to give me your things. I can just buy them online.”

“Some people believe that a person connects with certain crystals. If that wand worked for you, then I’d feel better if you kept it. I have plenty more at home, don’t worry.”

His heart glowing, Arthur smiles and happily rubs the white wand on his lap. “Thank you.” Then he realises he has to thank Merlin for much more than just giving him the wand and sage spray. “Thank you for all of this.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me. You could have found all that information online in about two minutes.”

“I wouldn’t even have thought to go looking for it.” That reminds Arthur that Merlin’s done a lot more than just help him get a good night’s rest. “Do you realise you probably saved my life?”

“I wouldn’t have let you drive if you continued being sleep deprived. And believe me, I was planning on telling Uther as soon as we got back home.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I really thought I was going mad. I was going to go back home and get myself committed to a hospital. They wouldn’t have questioned where the voices in my head were coming from. They would have drugged me and kept me locked up, possibly for the rest of my life.”

Realizing how close he’d come to losing his entire life puts things into a whole new perspective and a bit of panic squeezes his throat. But that’s not all Merlin had done. “You didn’t just save me from that, but you supported me and pushed through my denials and rudeness. You helped me and explained things and...” He stares at Merlin in wonder. “I don’t deserve a moment of your time, Merlin Emrys. Saying thank you for what you did is completely inadequate, but I don’t know what else to say.”

Merlin’s smiling softly, looking a bit emotional. “I’m glad I could help. And don’t worry; I wasn’t planning on letting you lock yourself up without doing everything I could to help you. I was always planning on speaking to Morgana when we got back home.”

“But that’s the point; you didn’t have to do any of that.”

Merlin shrugs. “I happen to like you, Arthur Pendragon. When you’re not being a rude, judgmental prat, you’re a really nice person to be around.”

It’s the first time that Merlin’s made a positive reference about their failed relationship and it makes a bit of hope bloom in Arthur’s heart. He’s more eager than ever to get another chance with Merlin, but that requires being given a chance. “Would you ever want to give things another try? With me?”

Merlin smiles, but it’s a cautious smile. “I think I would. But let’s finish this case first, alright? If things continue going well between us—never mind what happens to the case—then you can thank me by taking me out to dinner once we’re back home.”

A huge grin spreads over Arthur’s face and his heart leaps with excitement. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“And I get to pick the restaurant.”

Arthur laughs. “Obviously.” Throwing the covers off himself, Arthur puts the selenite wand on the bedside table and heads to the bathroom. He can’t remember the last time he was so excited to get started with his day.

“While you’re getting ready, I’ll start looking at restaurant options,” Merlin calls after him. “And when you’re done in there, put your selenite wand on the window sill so it can re-charge.”

Shutting the bathroom door behind him, Arthur grins. Just yesterday, that statement would have been nonsensical rubbish that he rudely dismissed. But now, that statement is a logical and necessary part of his new life.

* * *

After getting dressed and scarfing down the sandwich Merlin had brought him, Arthur’s very eager to get back to Tristan’s case, but there’s something he needs to do first. “Do you mind if I call Morgana?”

Merlin grins. “You going to tell her the good news?”

He nods. “She’s been very worried about me and I know she’ll feel better once I tell her what’s going on.”

“Of course, take your time.”

Wanting some privacy, Arthur steps outside the inn and rings Morgana as he’s sitting on a small bench next to the front door.

Thankfully, she picks up after a few rings. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How’s Worbley?” Her voice sounds cautious because Arthur normally wouldn’t ring her in the morning while he’s working a case.

He smiles. “Worbley’s fine. I wanted to tell you some brilliant news.”

“Oh?” Now she sounds more excited. “Is this about Tristan’s case?”

“Not...exactly. Morgana, I...” He takes a shaky breath, grinning ear to ear from excitement. “This is going to sound mad, alright? But listen to me.”

“Alright...”

“I’m a medium.”

This is greeted with stunned silence. Then: “That’s...wonderful. Arthur, are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

He laughs. “I’m not just fine, I’m doing brilliant.”

“You’re calling me in the middle of a case to tell me what size clothing you wear. That’s...unusual. Not to mention that most medium sized things wouldn’t fit you.”

Realizing his mistake, Arthur laughs harder. “No, no. I mean; I’m a psychic medium. Like Merlin. Well, my abilities are a bit different from his. But I’m really a medium.”

“Arthur, what’s going on?” Now she sounds more worried than before and that’s all Arthur’s fault.

“You remember those dreams I had? With the screaming and the woman singing?”

“Yes...”

“It turns out that I’m hearing spirits. The singing woman is my mother.”

She sighs softly. “Listen, I know you’re desperate to rationalise what’s been going on but I really don’t think jumping to conclusions—especially ones like this—will help you.”

Damn it, he’s mucking this whole thing up. “Sorry, I’m not explaining things well. So yesterday and the day before, I kept hearing this strange man’s voice when we’re in the inn here. But I could never see the man I heard. I brushed it off and I thought it was another symptom of me being ill. Then at Tristan’s home, I kept hearing Tristan. He was saying things to me; things that turned out to be real. There were details that I couldn’t have possibly have come up with on my own. Then Merlin connected with Tristan and the things Tristan was telling me matched what Merlin saw.”

“Seriously?” She sounds fascinated, but still a bit cautious.

“Yes! Believe me, I was sceptical too. So was Merlin. But we confirmed it and Uther confirmed that the woman singing was my mother. Trust me, I verified loads of details and there’s no other rational explanation. My imagination couldn’t have come up with those details on my own. Every single thing was correct. Then Merlin helped me confirm it even more when he showed me some special techniques to keep the negative spirits away from me while I’m sleeping, and they worked! I slept better last night than I have since this whole thing started.”

It seems he’s stunned her into silence again but he knows she’s believed him. She’s always believed in supernatural things and hasn’t shared Arthur and Uther’s scepticism. when it comes to these matters.

“You’re sure you’ve confirmed it?”

“Yes, absolutely. I heard Tristan refer to his teddy bear by a specific name before Edith told us what he’s called. It’s a very unusual name and it’s not one I’ve ever heard before. The landlady’s deceased husband also told me things that she confirmed he used to say. And Uther told me bits of the song my mother used to sing to me and it matches perfectly. Morgana, she used to sing that song to me before I was even born.”

She lets out a long breath. “Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am. This whole thing is fascinating but what’s most important to me is that you’re alright. I was sick with worry.”

“Believe me, I was too. I’m still...this whole thing is amazing and bonkers and I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I’m not ill.”

“And that’s what’s most important.” She lets out another breath. “I’m so damn relieved, Arthur. My God, I was having nightmares of what we’d have to do if things got worse.”

He grins. “I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.”

“Me too.”

There’s a beat of silence until Morgana switches gears. In typical Pendragon fashion, she’s accepted this new reality and she’s forging ahead with life. “So Merlin’s helping you cope with the situation?”

“Yes. He’s been wonderful. I don’t deserve any of it, but he’s being amazing.”

“You’re damn right you don’t deserve it. You _have_ apologized for the way you behaved, haven’t you?”

“Of course. He’s accepted my apology and put it all behind him.”

She chuckles warmly. “And proving once more that we don’t deserve Merlin in our lives.”

Arthur blows out a breath. “Yeah. But I’m being a very good student and I’m taking him out for dinner once we’re back home. My treat.”

“Oh? Was that your idea or Merlin’s?”

“Merlin’s.”

“Uh huh...” Her tone has a playful edge to it and Arthur groans.

“Morgana, please. I know what you’re thinking and trust me, I’m hoping for the same thing. But a lot’s happened over the last few days and right now, Merlin and I want to focus on Tristan.”

She sighs softly but obediently switches her focus. “Speaking of Tristan, did you and Merlin make any progress on the case yet?”

“We’ve managed to connect with Tristan, so that’s good. There’s no telling if we’ll get any information that’s related to the case, but we’ll keep trying.” He glances at his watch and it’s really time for him to get going. “Speaking of which...”

“Yes, get going. Good luck and call me if anything new happens.”

He smiles. “I will.”

“Good. Now bugger off.”

“You too.” Hanging up, he shoves his mobile into his pocket and heads back inside to tell Merlin he’s ready to go.

* * *

As they’re driving to Edith’s home, Arthur’s so excited that he’s practically vibrating. He can’t wait to hear what else Tristan will share with him. Even if none of the information helps them determine what happened to Tristan, he’s looking forward to telling Edith what her son had shared with him and hopefully give her some of the same joy he feels when he listens to his mother singing or Merlin feels when he sees his father at their family picnic.

After greeting Edith, Merlin asks if she’ll grant them permission to take some of Tristan’s toys out to the garden. Unfortunately, they still can’t find Tristan’s teddy bear and Edith says Bubsy had disappeared around the same time as Tristan, so Merlin takes the train set and Arthur grabs the stuffed giraffe before they head outside.

The sun is shining and random cars are driving by on the quiet village road and Arthur feels great as he waits to hear what Tristan will tell him.

Merlin’s standing in the garden, holding the string of wooden train cars as he frowns. “I’m getting a lot of different memories and some of them are definitely Tristan because I can see Bubsy, but I have to wait until he shows me something about the garden.”

Arthur nods and eagerly waits to hear Tristan. But more time passes and all Arthur hears is the passing traffic and the birds chirping over head. That’s not good. “Uh...Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“How do I...turn it back on? I don’t hear anything.”

Merlin laughs. “That’s great! I know that’s not optimal right now, but that’s a very good sign. It means the selenite worked very well for you and the protective shield is still around you.”

It’s great that he won’t be hearing random voices when he doesn’t want to, but this ability is only useful if he can turn it back on when he needs it. “How do I turn the shield off?”

“Close your eyes and envision yourself dropping the shield. Think about Tristan and nothing else. Ask him to come forward and share memories with you.”

It sounds silly, but Arthur’s definition of what’s silly has completely changed in the last twenty four hours. Closing his eyes, he gently holds the stuffed giraffe and pictures the white shield dropped around him. Come on, Tristan. I’m ready to listen. Can you show me memories of you playing in the garden?

It takes a little while, but then Tristan’s voice comes to him as clearly as it had yesterday.

“ _Would you like to come to my tea party, Lydia? Bubsy and giraffe are already there but I have enough room for another person. We can drink tea.”_

Arthur grins. “I hear him.”

“What’s he saying?”

“He’s invited somebody named Lydia to have tea with him. He must have been having a tea party in the garden with Bubsy and giraffe.”

Merlin makes a noise in his throat and Arthur opens his eyes. Unfortunately, Merlin isn’t looking very excited by this. Instead, he looks cautious. “Did you specifically hear any references to the garden?”

Arthur blinks. “Well...no. But I asked Tristan to share his memories of being in the garden. I just assumed...” Right away, he realises he’s making a fundamental mistake. He can’t just assume that any random words that a spirit shares with him are relevant to their case. There was nothing about Tristan’s words that indicated he was in the garden.

Damn it. This isn’t how a detective should work. He can’t be assuming things left, right and centre. He makes a face at Merlin. “I screwed up, didn’t I?”

Merlin smiles softly. “You’re not accustomed to working with these new tools and it’ll take time. But yes, you can’t jump to any conclusions. If a spirit shows you a memory that’s too vague to be useful, move on from it. If you get specific details that you could verify, that’s good but otherwise, ignore them.”

Still feeling a bit embarrassed, Arthur closes his eyes again and goes back to concentrating. Show me another memory, Tristan.

While he’s waiting, Merlin starts to speak. “I’m getting something that might be relevant. A green car pulled up in front of the garden here. I recognize the house across the street. Someone’s holding Bubsy in their hand, so I’m fairly confident it’s Tristan. He’s approaching the car. He seems excited.”

Out of nowhere, an angry yell erupts in Arthur’s head. _“I’m not Henry! I’m not! My name’s Tristan! I’m not Henry!”_

The words are angry, frustrated. Tristan’s voice sounds choked, as if he’s close to tears.

The sudden anger sends a chill down Arthur’s spine. “I’m getting something. Tristan’s yelling. He sounds very upset. He keeps saying he’s not Henry. I know it’s Tristan because he’s confirming his name. He keeps insisting he’s not Henry.”

Opening his eyes, Arthur stares at Merlin, who’s frowning at him and looking thoughtful.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

Arthur’s getting that same feeling. “It might just be a case of a teacher having gotten Tristan’s name wrong, but...”

“Tristan was four years old. He wasn’t in school.”

Right. Bloody hell! Arthur needs to start using his new abilities in conjunction with his other training. He quickly thinks back over the case files and what Edith had told the CID about her and Tristan’s daily routine. “She was working from home. She never needed babysitters and they had no other family. Maybe it happened while he was on a play date at another child’s home?”

“His frustration is interesting too,” Merlin muses.

“Yes. Tristan was a well-mannered little boy so I don’t think he’d lose his temper on somebody calling him by the wrong name just once. This sounded like he’s been saying it over and over again and the person isn’t listening.”

The whole thing is confusing but also frightening. Tristan had sounded so upset and none of it makes sense.

Merlin bites his lip. “I also don’t remember a Henry anywhere in the case files.”

“No, me neither.”

“We’ll have to ask Edith about Henry, but I want to explore this green car a bit more. I saw Tristan getting into the car with Bubsy. He keeps showing me that scene over and over again.”

Arthur remembers the case file photos. “Edith had a red car at the time. Definitely not green.”

“So it wasn’t Edith in the car. I...wait...” Merlin’s eyes widen as his breath catches. “Tristan got into the car and after doing up his seatbelt, he looked up and saw the driver’s reflection in the mirror. It’s a woman. Definitely not Edith.”

Right away, Tristan’s angry screaming starts again. _“I’m not Henry! I’m Tristan and I want my mummy! I want to go home!”_

The hairs stand up on the back of Arthur’s neck and his heart is racing. “Merlin, I think we’re definitely onto something. Tristan’s continuing to insist that he’s not Henry but he’s also saying he wants his mother and he wants to go home.”

They stare at each other, both wide eyed and pale. What if the woman in the green car had tricked Tristan into getting in and driven off with him? What if she’s their murderer?

But wait, wait, wait! Arthur’s making a mistake again. There’s nothing concrete connecting Merlin’s memory with Arthur’s. What if Tristan had gone to a friend’s house, gotten into an argument with another young child who kept calling him the wrong name and Tristan had gotten upset and wanted to go home? As for Merlin’s memory—Merlin had said Tristan was excited. There’s nothing to indicate the driver of the green car wasn’t a friend’s mother who had come to pick Tristan up for a play date.

Blinking hard, Arthur tries to think straight, but Tristan’s still yelling in his head and it’s making it impossible to concentrate. “Merlin, I need Tristan to be quiet for a moment. I can’t think.”

“Take deep breaths and reassure Tristan that you heard him and you’re going to help him. We don’t want to shut him out, we just need to calm him down.”

Arthur sucks in a shaky breath as Tristan’s screams become choked with tears. _“I’m not Henry! I want to go home!”_

Shh....calm down, Tristan. Please. We’re going to help you but I can’t do that when you’re yelling. Please, calm down. Show me a nice memory. Show me when you were playing with Bubsy and your train. Please.

It takes a little while, but abruptly Tristan’s screaming stops and is replaced by familiar words. _“Let’s put together our passengers for the train trip, Bubsy. I think we’ll take giraffe...and fire_ _engine_ _...and clock.”_

Arthur grins with relief. Thank you, Tristan. That’s very good. You’re doing a great job. Keep playing with Bubsy and the train.

Staring at Merlin, Arthur can’t believe what he’s doing. He’s communicating with a boy who had died twenty years ago. “This is amazing. I know something terrible might have happened to Tristan and it’s awful that I’m excited by this, but this is...wow.”

Merlin grins, his eyes shining. “It’s neat, isn’t it?” Then he grows serious. “But we have to keep working. I’ve had it happen before that a spirit gets frustrated and leaves and I never get them back. Time is of the essence, especially when we’re dealing with a frustrated four year old who’s been waiting twenty years for somebody to listen to him.”

That makes Arthur switch back to detective mode. They’ve gotten good information from Tristan but now it’s time to closely examine those findings and figure out if they have any connection to Tristan’s disappearance. “Time to ask Edith if she knows a Henry and a woman driving a green car.”

Merlin grins. “I’ll do you one better.” Taking off his bag, Merlin pulls out a sketchpad and a pencil.

Raising his eyebrows, Arthur stares at him. He can’t seriously be suggesting... “Don’t tell me you’re going to sketch the woman.”

“I have all sorts of talents, Pendragon.”

Laughing with delight, Arthur shakes his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“Oh, you better believe it. But sadly, my artistic talents didn’t come naturally. I taught myself when I realised it’s a waste of time having to find a composite sketch artist and working with them to make my vision come to life.”

Opening the sketchpad, Merlin frowns at the edge of the garden where Arthur knows he’s seeing the green car that Tristan had climbed into. After a moment, Merlin begins to sketch the rough outlines of a woman’s face.

Watching the progression is fascination but what’s even more remarkable than Merlin’s surprisingly good drawing skills is knowing that he’s drawing something from Tristan’s own memories. A face that a four year old boy had looked at twenty years ago is now appearing on Merlin’s paper, while that same boy is chattering away in Arthur’s head, talking about inviting Lydia to his tea party and asking his mummy for a bag of crisps because his teddy bear is hungry.

When it’s done and Merlin’s satisfied with it, they both stare at it.

“Time to see if Edith knows who this is?” Arthur asks.

“Uh huh. And we’ll go from there.” He glances at Arthur. “Don’t get too excited. I remember how I was the first few cases I worked. Try to rein in your excitement until we get solid proof that the memories we got actually connect to Tristan’s disappearance. They could be random occurrences.”

Arthur nods, but it’s really hard to keep his excitement in check as they go back inside and find Edith playing card games on her computer.

“Edith, may we ask you some questions?” Arthur asks. “We got some interesting information from Tristan but we’re not sure if it’s related to his disappearance.”

She’s spun around in her chair and she looks as hopeful as she did yesterday. “Of course! I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

“Did Tristan have any friends named Henry?”

Edith frowns. “Henry? No. Tristan didn’t often mix with other children. He preferred playing by himself. He had a few friends in the neighbourhood. Lydia was one.”

Arthur can’t help his grin. “Did he invite her for tea parties with Bubsy?”

A delighted smile appears on her face. “Yes! All the time.” She turns to Merlin, assuming that this is all information Merlin had told Arthur. Oh, if she only knew. “Did Tristan show you his tea parties?”

Merlin smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

Arthur’s glad Merlin had decided to pretend he’s the only one getting information from Tristan. It would be too complicated to explain that Arthur had just discovered his own abilities and he’s not overly comfortable being questioned about them since this is all new to him. In this case, he’s very happy for Merlin to take all the credit.

But it’s time to return the conversation to the important part. “So you don’t recall Tristan having a friend named Henry?”

She shakes her head. “No, I know for a fact that he had no friends named Henry. Tristan and I spent most of our time together and I knew all of his friends. None of them were named Henry.”

“Did any of the friends have siblings that were named Henry?”

“No. I suppose it’s possible that a friend’s family could have had visitors, but Tristan never mentioned a Henry to me and he always told me everything that happened on his play dates.”

In a way, that’s good news. Not good for Tristan’s situation, but good for the case. It validates that Tristan being called Henry wasn’t a common occurrence and he hadn’t told Edith about it. It’s not confirmation that this Henry situation has something to do with Tristan’s disappearance, but it also doesn’t disprove it. Time to move onto the green car and the strange woman.

“Did any of your acquaintances drive a green car?”

She frowns as she thinks about it. “Honestly, I can’t remember.”

Arthur holds out his hand for Merlin’s sketch. “What about this woman? Do you recognize her?”

Taking the sketch from him, she studies it but Arthur can already tell that she doesn’t know who it is. “No, I’ve never seen her before.” She glances up at them. “Who is she?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, ma’am. Merlin had a vision of this woman driving a green car. We’re not sure how it relates to Tristan’s case.”

“I have no idea how it could be related,” she says quietly. “I’ve never seen her before and I’d never let Tristan near anybody I didn’t know. If anybody came by to pick him up, I was always there to see him off.”

His stomach clenches again and Arthur gets that same feeling as earlier. The fact that Tristan had gotten into this woman’s car was out of character and out of routine for the boy. It’s definitely something that needs to be followed up on. Not to mention that the Henry situation is still a question mark.

Arthur smiles at Edith. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Do you think the woman had something to do with Tristan’s disappearance?”

“It’s too early to tell. We’ll do some more investigating and we’ll let you know what we find out.”

She smiles softly. “Thank you. I’m here if you have any questions, day or night.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Sliding the sketch into his briefcase, Arthur glances at Merlin and jerks his head to the door. As they walk through the garden, Merlin shoots him a grin. “Time to use good old police work to find out who the woman is?”

“Definitely. And we’re also going to see if we can find out who Henry was. Tristan was so damn upset about it that he would have told Edith about it. The best explanation for why Tristan didn’t tell her is if he never got the chance.”

Merlin smiles at him. “You’re really attractive when you’re in full detective mode, you know that?”

Blushing, Arthur rolls his eyes as he unlocks his car. “Shut it.”

Laughing, Merlin gets into the car. “And you’re even sexier when you’ve had a good night’s sleep and aren’t being a prat.”

Getting into his seat, Arthur starts the car and slides his sunglasses on, which will hopefully hide how badly he’s blushing. But he must be doing a terrible job because Merlin just keeps laughing at him.

Despite being a bit embarrassed by Merlin’s blunt comments, it makes that little ray of hope shine a bit brighter again. All signs are pointing to Merlin being excited over a possible reunion once they’re finished this case and Arthur can’t wait.

But first, they need to keep following the clues Tristan has given them.


	6. Chapter 6

They decide to start at the Albion Inn, since the inn has been a staple in Worbley for decades and there’s a good chance the inn’s landlady might recognize the woman in Merlin’s sketch.

To Arthur’s complete shock, as soon as she looks at the sketch, her face lights up with recognition. “Oh, that looks like Nimueh Williams.”

Arthur’s eyebrows fly up and he exchanges a shocked look with Merlin. “Are you sure, ma’am?”

“Oh, yes. There’s no doubt. She was my head housekeeper here at the inn for many years.”

Scrambling to take out his notebook, Arthur writes down Nimueh’s name. This is the fastest break he’s ever encountered in a case. Well, whether it’s really a break remains to be seen. There’s still no solid evidence that Tristan getting into Nimueh’s car had led to his disappearance. But Nimueh has definitely become a person of interest. “How long did she work for you, ma’am?”

The landlady blows out a long breath. “Let me think...it must have been about ten years? She quit abruptly many years ago.”

Arthur gives her a polite smile. “Is there any way you can confirm those dates? It’s very important.”

She nods. “Certainly, just let me check my records.”

Disappearing into the backroom, she leaves Arthur and Merlin standing in tense silence.

“We can’t get too excited,” Arthur whispers quietly. “It’s a good sign that Edith didn’t know who Nimueh was and that Tristan got into her car, but it’s not enough. We can’t rely on Edith’s memory being a hundred percent solid after twenty years.”

“I agree. We’ll need to find out more about Nimueh and what her connection to Tristan might have been.”

The landlady comes bustling back out, carrying a thick binder. “Here we go; my employee records. I found Nimueh’s entry for you. It even has a photo of her so you can confirm for yourself if my guess was right.” The binder lands on the desk with a thud and she flips it open and turns it to face Arthur.

Glancing at the page, Arthur’s eyes catch on the photo and he recognizes the woman right away. She looks younger and happier in the photo, but there are a lot of similarities. Checking over the page, he notes that Nimueh had been hired by the inn approximately 30 years ago, but her last day of work makes the hairs rise on the back of Arthur’s neck.

Nimueh had stopped working at the inn nineteen years ago on March 17.

Merlin’s reading over his shoulder and he sucks in a sharp breath when Arthur’s finger taps on the date. “That’s the date, isn’t it?”

Arthur nods. That’s the day Tristan disappeared. The connections between Nimueh and Tristan are growing, but Arthur doesn’t like that they’re still heavily relying on Tristan’s memories, which could be biased by a four year old’s view of the world. They need more information. “Ma’am, do you happen to recall what type of car Nimueh drove?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, no.”

Damn. But there’s still some information she might be able to provide. “Can you tell me a bit about Nimueh? Was she a good employee? Did she have problems with anybody?”

“Oh, no, no. She was lovely. A very hard worker and she was always smiling and friendly to the guests. She loved children and she’d always have treats in her apron to share with them. It was all very sad, you see.”

Arthur raises his eyebrow as he glances up from scribbling in his notebook. “Oh? In what way?”

“She’d lost her own son long ago. He was quite young when it happened. About four or five years old?”

Hearing Merlin’s breath catch next to him, Arthur’s stomach clenches a bit. Nimueh having lost her young son might have nothing to do with anything, but just like her quitting date, it’s another odd connection between her and Tristan.

“Anyway, I don’t remember exactly what happened. But I think she loved being here because she was around a lot of children without the situation becoming stressful. Everybody loved her, that’s why it was so strange when she left.”

“What were the circumstances around her leaving?”

She sighs heavily. “That’s the thing; there weren’t any. She finished her shift, drove off and never came back. I rang her several times and she finally picked up a few days later and told me she wasn’t coming back to work. Didn’t provide a reason and didn’t even apologize. It was one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen.”

Arthur glances at Merlin, who raises his eyebrows at him. The circumstances surrounding Nimueh are starting to become more and more suspicious. She left her employment out of the blue on the same date that Tristan disappeared. She’d lost a son who was Tristan’s age. She’d worked here at the inn and her drive out of town would have taken her right past Tristan’s home.

But it’s still not enough.

Taking out his mobile, Arthur takes a picture of Nimueh’s employment record page and shoots the landlady a smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome.”

Stepping away from the desk, Arthur lowers his voice as he looks at Merlin. “We need to confirm more details from the information Tristan gave us. Right now, Nimueh’s connection to Tristan could all be coincidences. Her quitting date, her having lost a son his age, her having to drive past his home when leaving town; none of that is enough to make her a suspect.”

Merlin nods. “We should try to confirm what car Nimueh drove. Maybe we should ask Edith’s neighbours if they remember Nimueh coming round? Maybe Edith’s memory isn’t as sharp we she thinks it is. And we still need to figure out who Henry was.”

“Agreed.”

Deciding to do the easier bit first, they head up to their room and sit in the arm chairs by the window while Arthur turns on his computer and starts checking county records for information about Nimueh Williams. Using the landlady’s records to help narrow down the list of results he gets, he manages to find her birth certificate and other identifying information to widen his search and find as much information about her as he can...

....and he’s left stunned. “Merlin.”

“Yes? Did you find something?”

He’s gaping at his screen, his stomach doing flips as a shudder runs through him. This can’t be happening. There’s no way...“The green car. What kind of car was it?”

“A Volvo.”

Arthur blinks at the words on the screen before staring at Merlin. “Twenty years ago, Nimueh had a green Volvo registered in her name.”

Merlin grins and smacks the table. “That’s great! So we’ve confirmed that Tristan definitely got into Nimueh’s car with her. We still don’t know when that happened and why he got in, but it’s good confirmation...why are you still staring at me like that? Did you find something else?”

His heart is pounding so hard that Arthur can hardly breathe. “I found her son’s name,” he mumbles, his lips numb.

His eyes widening, Merlin’s smile fades as he gapes at Arthur. “Henry.” It’s not a question.

In response, Arthur spins the computer around and shows Merlin what he’d found.

Nimueh’s son was named Henry Williams. He’d been hit by a car outside their home when he was four years old and had succumbed to his injuries. It had happened fifty years ago and despite the pathologist photographs and report being very poor quality, Arthur had taken one look at Henry’s autopsy photo and his heart had nearly stopped.

Little Henry looked remarkably similar to Tristan.

Right on cue, Tristan’s voice erupts in Arthur’s head, as if he knows they’re putting the pieces together and he wants to make sure they don’t lose focus. _“I’m not Henry! I want my mummy. You’re being mean and I want to go home! Bubsy is scared and he wants to go home!”_

Merlin gapes at him over the computer and Arthur stares back. Neither of them have to say anything. The connections between Nimueh and Tristan’s day of disappearance are now too numerous to ignore or dismiss as a coincidence. All the information Tristan had shared with them has proven to be correct, which leaves only one conclusion.

“Nimueh kidnapped Tristan on March 17 and probably killed him,” Arthur mumbles, shivers running through him.

Merlin nods. “She must have said something to him that excited him and convinced him to get into her car.”

“Maybe she thought Tristan was her son. Or a replacement. Being the same age and looking so similar.”

“She’d probably driven past his home dozens of times. Her grief might have pushed her into mental illness over the years and nobody realised.”

“If she kept referring to Tristan as Henry, she might have thought he was Henry. Tristan didn’t like it and argued with her. Maybe he was killed after trying to escape or maybe she got frustrated with him and killed him?”

_“I want my mummy! I’m not Henry and I don’t like it here!”_ Tristan’s crying now, sounding scared and frustrated.

Arthur’s heart aches with pain. Their next step is clear. “Pack your bags,” he says, slamming the lid of his computer. “We’re going to pay Nimueh Williams a visit.”

_“I want to go home!”_

Tears well up in Arthur’s eyes at the fear in Tristan’s voice. A part of him wants to rush over to Nimueh’s home so he can rescue Tristan...but of course, that won’t happen. As he frantically packs his bags, he tries to remind himself that whatever Nimueh had done to Tristan, it had happened twenty years ago and Arthur can’t spare Tristan that fate.

But as they frantically pack, Arthur thinks that maybe Tristan is showing him that memory for another reason.

Tristan wants to go home. He’s been waiting for somebody to come and bring his body home to his mother for twenty years. And that’s something Arthur will definitely do.

Hang on, Tristan. Just hang on a little while longer. We’re coming.

* * *

Nimueh still lives in the nearby village of Camden but as they drive, Arthur asks Merlin to call Edith for one last check. They’re still relying a lot on the memories of a four year old boy and Arthur’s starting to look ahead and wonder how on earth they’re going to explain all of this in their report. Never mind if it goes to trial. They need to have as much solid evidence as possible.

“Hi, Edith. It’s Merlin....yes, thank you, I’m very well. We’re actually heading out of Worbley and following a lead. Detective Sergeant Pendragon wanted me to confirm with you if you knew a woman named Nimueh Williams. She worked in Worbley until about twenty years ago.”

As Arthur drives, he holds his breath.

“Uh huh...no, no problem. That’s fine. Can you also confirm if Tristan was ever in Nimueh’s car for some reason?...Right, okay, thank you...no, that’s fine. Thank you. We’ll call you as soon as we have news, I promise.”

Hanging up, Merlin sighs softly. “Nothing. She’s never heard Nimueh’s name mentioned and she’s sure she never let Tristan get into her car.”

Arthur bites his lip. “I suppose that’s both good and bad news. It makes it likely that Tristan got into her car on March 17 and that was the one and only time it happened. But you do realise what will happen if we don’t find anything in Nimueh’s house or if she decides not to let us in?”

Merlin makes a face. “We won’t get any further unless Tristan gives us something else that we can confirm.”

“Yeah. No judge will grant us a search warrant based on Tristan’s memories. The solid evidence is all circumstantial right now. We have no hard evidence that she took Tristan.” Arthur’s heart is still pounding, partly from a desire to help Tristan as quickly as possible and partly from the fear of being stopped due to red tape.

Raising his eyebrows, Merlin glances at him and smirks. “Yes, but do we have to make Nimueh aware of that?”

Arthur frowns. “You want to me to be a little creative during my conversation with her?”

“You don’t have to lie, but you don’t have to tell her that we don’t have anything solid either. If she gives up information on her own...that’s her fault, not ours.”

Normally, Arthur wouldn’t feel right about gently manipulating a suspect, but there’s no doubt that Nimueh is responsible for Tristan’s life having ended so abruptly. Yes, they still haven’t managed to confirm that Tristan did actually get into Nimueh’s car or that it had happened on March 17, but Tristan keeps crying and yelling in Arthur’s head as they drive, which further cements his belief that they’re on the right track. Tristan hadn’t shown them any false memories so far, so there’s no reason to believe he wasn’t being fully truthful the entire time.

* * *

When they arrive at Nimueh’s home, Arthur parks the car and turns off the ignition as they study the house. He’d put in a call at the local police department and a uniformed officer has followed them into town so he can keep an eye on Nimueh if they’re allowed to search her home.

Merlin’s frowning. “I wish Tristan had shown me a memory of the home, but he’s refusing. He’s very scared and he keeps showing me the memory of him getting into the car.”

The front garden is completely overgrown with weeds and the house is dilapidated too.

_“I’m not Henry!”_

It’s alright, Tristan. We’re going to speak to Nimueh and see if we can figure out what happened, alright?

“Let’s go.” Taking off his sunglasses, Arthur gets out of the car and goes up the front walkway, Merlin and the other officer on his heels. He knocks on the door, his heart still pounding from Tristan quietly sniffling in his head.

The door opens and Arthur immediately recognizes Nimueh. She’s older than the photos he’s seen; her hair white and stringy and she looks sickly. Taking out his badge, he pastes a polite smile on his face. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you Nimueh Williams?”

She frowns. “Yes...”

He holds up his badge. “I’m Detective Sergeant Arthur Pendragon from the CID and these are Officer Bremer and my associate, Merlin Emrys. Could we come in and speak with you for a moment?”

Her frown deepens. “What about? I don’t like being disturbed by strangers.”

“We’d like to ask you some questions about Tristan Thomas.”

Now she looks bewildered. “I don’t know a Tristan.”

Okay, time to change tactics. “We’d also like to speak to you about Henry.”

That seems to do the trick because her eyes widen and her jaw clenches. “You’re not taking Henry away!”

It’s an odd statement because Henry had been buried in the village cemetery but she seems so insistent that a shiver crawls down Arthur’s back. It doesn’t confirm anything, but it’s a sign that something’s not right here. He holds up a soothing hand. “We’re not here to take Henry away, I promise.” That’s not a lie because Henry isn’t here anyway...but Tristan might be. “We’d just like to chat with you about him.”

“Henry’s sleeping,” she spits out, glaring at him.

Arthur blinks. Right. “We won’t disturb him, we’d just like to ask you some questions.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You won’t wake him up? He’s a good boy and he needs his sleep.”

Knowing that she’s talking about a boy who had died decades ago is making this very creepy; whether they assume she’s talking about Henry or Tristan. “We won’t disturb him.”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, she steps back and motions for them to come in. “What do you want to know?”

Now that they’ve been invited in, they’re one step closer. Thinking fast, Arthur decides they need to get a look at Henry’s old bedroom, which is probably where she’d kept Tristan. Could Tristan still be in the bedroom? Did she keep his body in there under the belief that he’s sleeping? His stomach clenches but Arthur pushes forward. “Could we take a look at Henry’s bedroom?”

Surprisingly, her glare softens and she shrugs. “Sure.”

Her casual behaviour makes Arthur think that Tristan probably isn’t in there, but it’s a good place to start. He shoots her a bright smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Do you mind waiting out here with Officer Bremer while we take a look?”

She shrugs again. “I don’t care. It’s down the hall,” she mutters, pointing at a door.

“Thank you.” Turning around, Arthur heads towards the bedroom with Merlin next to him. As before, Merlin pauses before the closed bedroom door and lays his hand on it, frowning in concentration.

“I’m seeing Tristan sitting on a bed. He’s hugging Bubsy to his chest and he’s very scared. He’s staring around the room and the configuration looks different from his bedroom at home...the dresser is made from a dark coloured wood instead of light and the curtains are drastically different. They’re a red and green checkered pattern.”

Arthur remembers that Tristan’s curtains at home had been covered in blue and white stripes.

Glancing at Arthur, Merlin nods. “I’m ready to go inside to confirm.”

At Arthur’s nod, Merlin opens the door and steps inside with Arthur on his heels.

Arthur’s eyes are immediately drawn to the curtains, which are a green and red checkered pattern. The dresser is a dark cherry wood. Merlin sucks in a sharp breath and Tristan starts crying louder in Arthur’s head.

_“This isn’t my bedroom. It’s all wrong. Bubsy, I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. When’s mummy going to come get us?”_

Glancing around the room, Arthur takes in more details. It looks like an ordinary child’s bedroom, but it’s been frozen in time. The bed’s neatly made but all the toys and the decor is from fifty years ago. There’s a photo on the bedside table and when Arthur bends down to study it, his heart nearly catches because he thinks it’s Tristan, until he looks closer and notices the old fashioned clothes the boy is wearing. It must be Henry, but his similarity to Tristan is really striking.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice is quiet and shaking.

Turning to face him, Arthur frowns. “Are you getting something else?”

“He’s showing me that same memory over and over again. Sitting on the bed, hugging Bubsy. He’s so scared.”

Arthur clenches his jaw. “I can hear him too. He’s saying it’s not his bedroom and he wants his mother to pick him up.”

Then another memory starts; something new.

_“I’m going to put you right here, Bubsy. When the mean woman comes back, you’ll be safe. But you mustn’t make a sound because she might find you. You’ll be safe here until mummy comes to get us.”_

Arthur blinks hard. “I think—Merlin, I think Tristan hid Bubsy here somewhere. Maybe that’s why we couldn’t find him. He—”

_“I’m not Henry! I don’t care what you say! You’re mean and I want to go home!”_

And for the first time, a woman’s familiar voice joins in. _“You’re being a rude and ungrateful boy, Henry! I made you such a nice supper and I work hard to give you so many wonderful toys and you’re being difficult!”_

_“My name is Tristan! I don’t want to be here! I want my mummy!”_

_“I’m your mummy and you need to stop making a fuss and do as you’re told!”_

_“I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to go home! I want—”_

_“Be quiet, Henry! I don’t want to hear your fussing any longer! You—”_

_“I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to go home!”_

Tristan’s crying hysterically and screaming so loudly that Arthur’s head is ringing.

“Arthur?”

Arthur’s heart is racing and he clenches his jaw as his head pounds from Tristan’s terrified screaming. Arthur’s panting as fear rushes through him. He has no idea if it’s Tristan’s fear, his own or a combination.

“Arthur, ask Tristan to please calm down.”

“He’s so scared,” Arthur whispers in a choked voice. “He’s arguing with Nimueh. She keeps calling him Henry and saying he’s ungrateful and Tristan wants to go home.”

Merlin grabs Arthur’s hands and squeezes them hard, staring at him intensely. “Try to remember that it all happened in the past. Nobody is hurting Tristan right now.”

It’s difficult, but Arthur begs Tristan to please calm down and takes several deep, shaky breaths as he tries to push back the panic Tristan had shared with him.

Finally, Tristan goes quiet and Arthur slowly unclenches his jaw.

Merlin’s frowning at him, looking worried. “Are you alright? I know you’re overwhelmed and you can keep pushing Tristan back out if you’re not comfortable.”

Arthur shakes his head. “We’re very close. I don’t want to stop now.”

Merlin nods. “Okay, so we’ve confirmed that Tristan really was in this bedroom but we still don’t have any solid evidence. We have to see if there’s some physical evidence that Tristan was ever in this room.”

Arthur frowns as he looks around and puts his detective hat back on. “We still have Tristan’s fingerprints and DNA on file. Depending on how thoroughly Nimueh cleaned in here, we might find some evidence that he was here. But we need something solid before can get forensics in here.”

The CID would never provide Arthur with a forensic team if all he has to connect Nimueh to the case is Tristan’s memories. Nimueh is refusing to acknowledge knowing Tristan, so that’s no help. They need something solid to prove that Tristan was in this room before they can move things forward.

Looking around the room, Arthur pulls out a pair of rubber gloves and puts them on. To his surprise, Merlin does the same thing without having to be asked. Deciding to start in the closet, Arthur carefully opens the door without touching the knob too much and looks inside. Unfortunately, the clothes hanging in there are all fifty years old and must have belonged to Henry.

Merlin’s riffling through a toy chest, but he’s making unhappy sounds too.

Then Arthur moves to the bed and gently lifts the pillow and the blanket, looking for anything that might help. Again, there’s nothing. He checks the chest of drawers as well and bends down to look underneath it, but there’s nothing interesting.

Then he remembers Tristan’s words. _“I’m going to put you right here, Bubsy. When the mean woman comes back, you’ll be safe. But you mustn’t make a sound because she might find you. You’ll be safe here until mummy comes to get us.”_

Frowning, Arthur looks around the room. Where would a four year old boy hide his precious teddy bear? The top of the closet is too high for him and there hadn’t been anything on the floor. “You don’t see Bubsy in the toy chest, do you?”

“No. Only toys from the 1950s.”

There’s a chance that Nimueh had found Bubsy over the years and got rid of him, but Arthur still wants to keep trying.

Suddenly, Merlin lets out a triumphant sound.

Spinning around, Arthur stares at him. “What?”

Merlin’s grinning at him. “Tristan showed me where he put Bubsy.”

“Where?”

In response, Merlin marches over to the chest of drawers and peeks behind it. Moments later, he straightens and his face is radiant. “Guess who’s been patiently waiting back here for twenty years?”

His heart lighting up, Arthur steps up beside Merlin and looks behind the wooden piece of furniture...and there he is. Wedged between the wall and the wooden back of the drawers is a squished and dusty looking Bubsy. His left ear and black nose dot are missing and his fur is as brown and flat as Edith had described.

But as much as Arthur wants to pull Bubsy out, the poor fellow will have to wait a little while longer. “Don’t touch him, Merlin.”

“Of course.”

Unfortunately, the existence of the bear is still not enough for Arthur’s liking. Yes, Bubsy is quite distinctive looking, but if Henry had his own teddy bear, it would be the same age and in roughly the same condition as Bubsy right now.

“I think we need something more before we can call in forensics.”

Merlin nods and they go back to looking around the room. While Arthur is opening the closet door for the third time, he notices something odd. The toy chest is placed so the left door of the closet can’t be opened properly. This wouldn’t normally be strange, except there’s plenty of space on the toy chest’s other side. There’s no reason for somebody to keep the toy chest in such a position and constantly inconvenience themselves when they open the closet. On the other hand, the toy chest isn’t enormous and could have just been moved when Nimueh was cleaning and she hadn’t bothered pushing it back.

But while he’s staring at the toy chest, he notices something else odd. There’s a small, decorative carpet underneath the chest. Since the entire bedroom is already carpeted, there’s no reason to have a small carpet specifically underneath the toy chest. If Arthur didn’t know that something bad had happened in this room, he might dismiss it as being an odd decorative choice. But in this case, it’s making him suspicious. “Merlin, help me move the toy chest.”

Being careful to touch it as little as possible, they lift the toy chest off the small carpet. Bending down, Arthur lifts up a corner of it...

...and finds a large, dark stain. From experience, he already knows what it is before Tristan starts crying in his head again.

_“I want to go home. She’s being so mean, Bubsy. I’m not Henry and I want to go home to mummy. When is mummy coming to get us?”_

Staring at the dark stain, tears well up in Arthur’s eyes as he tries to swallow through his tightening throat. They’ll have to confirm it, but Arthur’s certain this is Tristan’s blood.

“You think it’s blood?” Merlin whispers.

“Yes. We don’t know if it’s Tristan’s, but...”

“But sadly, that makes the most sense.”

Arthur clenches his jaw, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. But there’s still a lot more work to be done. Drawing in a deep breath, he releases the carpet and takes out his mobile so he can call for back up and a forensics team.


	7. Chapter 7

Nimueh doesn’t seem to care when Arthur tells her more ‘coppers’ will show up to look around Henry’s bedroom. She reminds him sternly that none of them are to disturb Henry’s sleep, which is still as creepy as it was earlier but she calms down somewhat when Arthur promises not to wake him.

But Nimueh’s comment reminds Arthur that they’re still missing the final piece of the puzzle. Nimueh had clearly kidnapped Tristan, brought him to her home and based on the size of the blood stain, she had killed him in the bedroom. They hadn’t confirmed that it’s Tristan yet, but Bubsy being in the bedroom leaves little doubt.

But what did Nimueh do with Tristan’s body? And her insistence that ‘Henry’ is sleeping is also odd. Maybe she killed Tristan in a fit of rage and never realised what she had done or she’d felt guilty and convinced herself that Tristan was just sleeping? She doesn’t seem to think they’ll disturb ‘Henry’ while they’re in the bedroom, so Arthur thinks Tristan’s body probably isn’t in there.

When the forensics team arrives, Arthur and Merlin wait in the bedroom until they’ve photographed Bubsy in his hiding spot and can finally pull him out. As soon as they free him from his twenty year old hiding place, Merlin smiles.

“Yes, that’s Bubsy. No doubt about it.”

“We won’t get any fingerprints off it, but we might get some DNA,” a member of the forensics team tells them before gently putting Bubsy into a plastic evidence bag.

As the team continues working, Arthur casually wanders around the house but he doesn’t see anything odd like he had in the bedroom. They can’t start tearing Nimueh’s entire house apart, so he needs to find more solid evidence that they can use.

Then Merlin calls for him from the living room window. “Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here and look at the garden. Tell me if you think there’s something odd about it.”

Odd things are Arthur’s favourite things when it comes to solving cases, so he hurries over to stand next to Merlin and stare out into the back garden.

At first glance, the garden is just as much of a mess in the back as the front. Weeds are growing everywhere, a small walkway is nearly completely overgrown with plants and there’s rubbish and broken children toys littered everywhere...

...except one spot.

The back of the garden has a small flower patch that seems meticulously well cared for, given the state of the rest of the garden. The wooden framed bed is filled with colourful flowers of all different varieties. There’s also a plastic chair sitting in front of the flower bed. By themselves, these things wouldn’t be strange but given the rest of the garden, it does seem odd that somebody would only take the time to maintain such a small part of their garden and let the rest of it fill up with weeds and rubbish.

Not only that, but the flower bed is right up against the back fence. If a person is sitting there, they can admire the flowers but they’d also be staring at the fence. Yes, Nimueh is getting older and perhaps she only has the energy to maintain a small part of her garden, but why focus on a part that’s furthest from her home? Why plant the flowers in a spot where she’d also be forced to share the view with the fence?

“I have a question, Merlin.”

“Yes?”

“If you were getting on in age and had such little energy for gardening that you let most of your back garden turn into a disaster, wouldn’t it make sense to plant flowers close to your home?”

Merlin looks grim. “Yes, it would. I wouldn’t plant them on the other side of the garden. And I wouldn’t pick a spot that’s facing the fence.”

“No. But you know when you _would_ pick such a spot?”

“If I had to bury a body and I tried every other part of my back garden but that spot back there was the only one where the soil was soft enough for digging.”

A shudder runs down Arthur’s back and he wants to rush out and start digging immediately, but there are processes to follow. First, they have to confirm. Heading back into the kitchen, Arthur gives Nimueh a polite smile. “Ma’am, may I ask where exactly Henry is sleeping? He’s not in his bedroom.”

She blinks at him and frowns as if he’s an idiot. “Of course not. He’s in the back garden.” Then her expression darkens. “But you said you wouldn’t disturb him!”

Her confirmation is all Arthur needs. Now he’s getting angry. This woman had suffered a tremendous loss, but that doesn’t justify her taking somebody else’s child and preventing them from going home when they’re scared. And it especially doesn’t justify her deciding to kill that child when the child refuses to indulge her delusions. Maybe Nimueh truly doesn’t realise the boy she’d killed had been Tristan and she believes he’s really ‘sleeping’ out there in the garden. But it still makes Arthur angry.

Tristan hadn’t done anything wrong. His only crime was living in Worbley along Nimueh’s commute to work and having a striking physical similarity to Henry. As a four year old boy, he wouldn’t have understood that Nimueh was mentally ill and dangerous. Edith had lost her son and Tristan had lost the chance to grow up and live his life, all because Nimueh had succumbed to her mental illness and nobody around her had ever noticed the signs.

A part of him feels sorry for her, but he’s still angry. Unfortunately, that anger won’t solve anything and Arthur pushes it aside with difficulty. “Ma’am, I’m going to call another team here and we’re going to dig up the garden.”

Nimueh’s immediate outrage was expected, but Arthur doesn’t care. She’s had twenty years to enjoy her delusions at the expense of Tristan and Edith and now it’s time for Tristan to finally go home.

* * *

The forensics team works well into the night and Merlin insists on staying with Arthur through the whole thing. They solemnly watch the team digging up the flower bed and slowly uncovering the small skeleton of a young boy. The pathologist immediately points out the large fracture in the boy’s skull, indicating he had been hit by a heavy object and the blow would have been fatal. The only bright side is that he would have died instantly, without suffering any pain.

* * *

Three days later, Arthur finally gets the forensics results back and none of them are a surprise. Dental records had confirmed that the body is Tristan’s, and his DNA and fingerprints had been all over Bubsy and Henry’s old bedroom.

While a part of Arthur is still angry at what Edith and Tristan have gone through, he’s filled with relief and a sense of joy. He can’t believe what he and Merlin had accomplished. And he can’t wait to tell Edith the good news.

He shares the results with Merlin immediately and invites him to the station before he calls Edith. They sit next to each other and Arthur clings to Merlin’s hand as they grin at each other and wait for Edith to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Edith? It’s Arthur and Merlin.”

“Oh, hello!” She sounds anxious, probably knowing they’re calling to tell her either good news or bad news. Not wanting to give Edith any further false hope, Arthur had only told her that they’ve been following some new leads and were waiting for test results.

“We have the forensic results back,” he tells her.

She sucks in a sharp breath. “And...?”

Squeezing Merlin’s hand as a sad smile spreads over his face, Arthur’s throat tightens with emotion. “We found Tristan.”

Edith lets out a loud sob. “Really?”

“Yes. And we know what happened to him. The woman responsible is in custody. At this point, I’m not sure what will happen with her because there are mental health issues that complicate the situation, but Tristan is safe. I’ll have him brought up to Worbley as soon as I can make the arrangements.”

“Oh, that’s...I don’t know what to say,” she chokes out, her voice thick with tears. “I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Do you mind if Merlin and I come up to see you? We’d like to tell you what happened in person and share the memories Tristan showed us.”

“Of course!”

* * *

Arthur is so overwhelmed with emotions that he asks Merlin to drive them. “I’m sorry I’m being so ridiculous. It’s not as if this is the first case I’ve ever solved.”

Merlin gives him a gentle smile as he starts the car. “Solving cold cases is different, especially when we use our abilities. You connected with Tristan on a level that you’ve never connected with another victim. And knowing how long Edith has been waiting for the case to be solved makes it more emotional. None of us ever expected to find Tristan and the entire world had given up on bringing him back home, so it’s very different than your other cases. At least, that’s what I think.”

Arthur agrees with him. Everything about this case feels different. He hasn’t heard Tristan’s voice since they’d left Nimueh’s home, but that’s not a surprise. There’s no doubt that Tristan had gone back home after telling him and Merlin everything they needed to find his body and he’s been keeping his mother company like he has been for the last twenty years.

Once they arrive at Edith’s home, Arthur carefully takes out the precious bag that’s been safely strapped into the backseat during their drive. Cradling it gently, he walks up to Edith’s home and waits for Merlin to ring the bell.

Edith flings open the door, her eyes already bright with tears.

Arthur’s throat tightens and he’s fighting back tears too. “Hello, Edith. We couldn’t bring you Tristan’s body at this point, but we brought you something else.”

He hands over the paper bag and watches as Edith opens with shaking hands and pulls out Bubsy. She lets out a loud sob and gently clutches the old teddy bear to her chest as tears pour down her face. “Thank you,” she chokes out. “Thank you so much. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

Despite it being against protocol to take Bubsy out of evidence so soon after a case finished, Arthur had argued until he’d been given permission. Nimueh had confessed to everything anyway so there won’t be a trial and it would be cruel for Bubsy and Tristan to both stay in police custody for several weeks until the paperwork was finished. They’d both waited so long to come home and it wasn’t fair to make them wait any longer.

Brushing tears off his cheeks, Arthur shakily leads Edith inside and helps her sit in the living room. He hands her a wad of tissues before taking one for himself as Merlin asks for permission to make some tea.

Edith clutches Bubsy to herself with one hand while holding Arthur’s and they sit there, crying and overwhelmed with emotion.

“ _Mummy, may I have a bag of crisps? Bubsy says he’s hungry.”_

Arthur grins through his tears. It’s nice to confirm that he was right and Tristan has come right back home to be with his mother. In a few days, his physical body will come home too and they’ll both be back in Worbley where they belong.

He wants to tell Edith that he’s listening to her son, but that would require a lot of explanation that he’s not focused enough to get through. He’s told a lot of parents what happened to their loved ones who were victims of violent crimes, but this case is so different.

Thankfully, Merlin continues taking control of the situation when he comes back with a tray of tea and gets everybody settled and calmed down.

“Where did you find him?” Edith asks softly.

Arthur takes a deep breath. Dealing with the facts of the case is something familiar that he can do. “In Camden. A woman named Nimueh Williams used to work at the Albion Inn. She’d lost her son many years ago and she never recovered from the loss. She used to drive by your home and Tristan resembled her son and was the same age. She kidnapped him and took him back to her home, believing he was her son.”

Edith frowns, blinking hard. “But how could she possibly be that confused? Tristan must have told her he wasn’t her son. Why didn’t she let him go?”

“We’re not sure how much of her decisions were due to psychological delusions and how much was her stubbornly wanting a son again. It’ll be up to the courts to decide what happens to her.”

“How did she kill him?”

Arthur clenches his jaw. “Are you sure you want to know?”

She nods. “Yes. I want to know what my boy went through.”

“Tristan’s a smart boy and he refused to participate with her delusions. He hid Bubsy in the bedroom where she was keeping him so he would be safe. As far as we can tell, Tristan continued arguing with her and demanding that he be allowed to go home. She got frustrated and hit him over the head with something. He would have died instantly.”

She draws in a shaky breath and stares down at Bubsy. “So he didn’t suffer?”

Arthur decides not to tell her that Tristan had been scared and cried for his mother to come rescue him. There’s no reason to make Edith feel guilty about a situation that she couldn’t do anything about. They also have no idea how long Nimueh kept Tristan alive, so Arthur’s not going to make Edith suffer. She’d already suffered so much and none of it was her fault. “No, he didn’t. He was angry and confused, but that’s all. She got frustrated with him very quickly and killed him. She buried him in her back garden.”

Edith squeezes her eyes shut. “When is he coming home?”

“The pathologist is just finishing up her report. But as soon as she releases him, I’ll bring him home.”

“What’s going to happen to that woman?”

Arthur sighs softly. “At this point, we don’t know. She confessed to everything but a psychologist will have to determine if she’s going to go to prison or a psychiatric hospital. She’s also in frail health and in her late 70s, so the courts will take that into account as well.”

Smiling sadly, Edith stares down at Bubsy. “It might seem strange, but as long as she won’t hurt anybody else and I get Tristan back, I don’t really care what happens to her. I’ve already spent so long being tormented by this.”

Abruptly, Tristan’s voice comes from the corner of the room. _“Mummy, would you like to come a tea party with Bubsy and me? You’ll be our guest of honour! Can you wear one of your special hats?”_

Arthur struggles to keep his smile from getting too big. Tristan is doing his best to reassure his mother that he’s fine and it doesn’t matter what happens to Nimueh Williams. Unfortunately, he can’t get into that without confusing Edith, so he sticks to his usual lines. “You should deal with the situation in whatever way you want, Edith. Don’t let anybody tell you that you’re doing things wrong.”

She nods. “I won’t. I just want to finally bury my boy and give him peace.”

This is the part that Arthur’s been looking forward to because for the first time in his career, his conversation with a victim’s loved one won’t end here. Bringing Bubsy and Tristan home would normally be the only things he can offer as comfort, but now he can do a lot better than that. “Actually, I want you to know that Tristan’s been at peace for a very long time.”

Frowning at him, she dabs at her eyes with her tissues. “How do you know that?”

While Arthur would love to tell Edith all about the many happy memories that Tristan had shared with him—like the one he’d just heard—he doesn’t think he’d make it through the emotional conversation without falling to pieces so Merlin had agreed to do this part for him.

Leaning forward, Merlin smiles at Edith. “He knows because I told him. I can sense Tristan’s spirit in your home. He’s always here, always around you and he’s the happy, wonderful boy he was twenty years ago. He told me about his tea parties and taking giraffe, fire engine and clock for a ride on his train.”

Edith’s face lights up. “He really told you about that?”

“Yes, he did. He told me so many wonderful things that you and he used to do together. He couldn’t stop sharing his memories with me. He would use Bubsy as an excuse to ask for crisps before supper, didn’t he?”

She laughs. “Yes! It was so adorable that sometimes I’d go along with it.”

Reaching forward, Merlin takes her hands and squeezes them. “The most important thing is that he’s still sharing those memories with me now. He’s always here with you. He’s always going to be that happy little boy who you love so much. I know you miss him terribly and it’s not a substitute, but he’s at peace and he’ll always be here with you. Even if you can’t see or hear him, know that he’s always around you. All those memories you have of him; he has those same memories and he’s re-living them constantly.”

Fresh tears are rolling down Edith’s face, but she’s smiling through her tears. Arthur’s heart aches with both pain and joy for Edith because he knows what a never ending darkness grief can be but knowing his mother is always around him has changed his own grief and he hopes it’ll do the same for Edith.

“Thank you,” Edith whispers.

“You’re welcome.”

Turning on the couch, she reaches for one of Arthur’s hands too and squeezes them. “Thank you both. I’d given up on ever finding out what happened to him and bringing him home. It’s wonderful to realise that Tristan’s always been home but I think I’ll find peace for myself now too.”

Arthur smiles softly. “You’re welcome.”

It’s amazing how emotional he still feels about the entire situation and hearing Tristan chattering about taking his friends on a train ride makes him smile sadly. Everything about it is bittersweet and it’s ironic that the happiest person in the room is the little four year old who is more concerned about putting his passengers in the right order on the train rather than what’s causing the three grown-ups in the room to keep crying mixed tears of sadness and joy.


	8. Chapter 8

Finishing Tristan’s case has a profound effect on Arthur and he asks to take a few days off work once they’re done so he can let everything sink in.

Luckily, Merlin continues helping him. He’s always available when Arthur needs to talk and he comes over to Arthur’s flat and helps him clear out the negative energies that had clogged up his home for months. He’d encouraged Arthur to buy some additional selenite crystals—after Arthur had refused to take more of Merlin’s—and he comes by to help set them up properly.

“The idea is that you put one on each end of your flat so they can form a permanent protective shield. You’ll still have to do your night time routine to establish a shield around yourself, but having them in your flat will lower the number of negative energies that will collect throughout the day.”

They put the first crystal above Arthur’s door and the other one sits in his bedroom on the same window sill where he usually recharges the wand he uses for sleeping.

Standing in Arthur’s bedroom, Merlin’s frowning as he looks around. “Oh, this is much better than it was last week, isn’t it?”

Arthur shrugs. “I can’t sense the energies like you can but I’m sleeping great, even if I’m too tired to make my shield as strong as I should. I think the clearing you did really helped and the crystals will help maintain it.”

Merlin grins. “I hope so. But even so, you should spray sage once a week and recharge your boundary crystals every few days.”

“Yes, sir.”

That makes Merlin laugh as he sits on the edge of Arthur’s bed, staring up at him. “I can’t believe how much better you look these days.”

A smile spreads over Arthur’s face. “I have a wonderful friend who’s helped me get my life back on track.”

Raising an eyebrow, Merlin quirks a smile at him. “Is that right?”

“Uh huh.”

As they stare at each other, Arthur doesn’t fight the warm feelings that are building in his stomach. Now that he’s no longer distracted by Tristan’s case or his personal issues, he can’t help but focus on his intense attraction to Merlin whenever they spend time together. He hadn’t wanted to push Merlin so he’s been waiting for Merlin to bring up the dinner Arthur owes him or anything else related to their future.

But lately, Merlin’s eyes have a similar flare of heat in them and his smile slowly turns into a smirk. “So, Arthur...”

“Yes?”

“I was going to ask for that dinner you owe me...but I’m wondering if you’d like to change the order of things.”

Arthur frowns, not understanding what Merlin’s talking about. He knows what he wishes Merlin was talking about, but this isn’t something Arthur wants to misunderstand. “The order of what things?”

Leaning back on Arthur’s bed and propping himself up on his elbows, Merlin’s wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Since we’re in your bedroom and you’ve spent the last half an hour staring at me like you can barely keep your hands off me, I’m thinking it would be more efficient if we took advantage of our current location. But we can do dinner first, if you really want.”

His heart leaps and arousal instantly runs through him. “Really?” His pathetic tone is embarrassing, but he wants Merlin so damn much.

Merlin’s smirk fades into a soft smile. “Get over here.”

Not needing to be told twice, Arthur rushes over to Merlin and eagerly climbs into his lap. With his knees pressed against Merlin’s sides, he presses himself against Merlin’s warm, solid body and wraps his arms around him. He’s practically melting against him and his cock is already stiffening.

Merlin moans softly and slides his hands up Arthur’s sides and up to hold his face. Staring at him with wide eyes, Merlin lets out a soft breath. “I missed you so damn much.”

That reminds Arthur of how badly he’d screwed things up between them before and his smile disappears, but Merlin quickly presses a finger to his lips.

“None of that. It’s in the past and forgotten. We’re just going to pretend that entire conversation never happened. We’ve just taken an unusually long break between the first time we shagged and our second.”

Arthur grins and presses his forehead against Merlin, clinging to him. “Can we get started with our second time right now? Otherwise, there’s a good chance I’ll come in my pants.”

Merlin laughs and rubs his nose against Arthur’s before tilting his head and catching Arthur’s lips in a soft kiss.

Eagerly kissing him back, Arthur relishes how familiar Merlin’s warm, soft lips against his and he eagerly licks at the seam of Merlin’s closed lips. Once Merlin parts them, Arthur slides his tongue against Merlin’s as heat builds in his gut and he starts shaking as he lets out a soft moan.

Merlin tightens his grip on Arthur’s face as he pushes their tongues back into Arthur’s mouth and kisses him hard as Arthur presses his hard cock against the growing thickness in Merlin’s pants.

His arousal builds surprisingly fast and Arthur quickly turns into a panting, shaking mess who needs their clothes to come off. “Clothes. Off. Please,” he mutters in between kisses, his lips tingling pleasantly.

Chuckling, Merlin smacks his ass and pulls back, his eyes already dark with heat and his lips shiny with spit. “Go on then.”

Unfortunately, Arthur has to climb off Merlin in order to get his clothes off but as he’s waiting for Merlin to finish, he lunges for the bedside table and digs out a condom and lube. Climbing back on the bed, he yanks the covers down and drops the supplies on the pillow before getting tackled onto the mattress by Merlin.

Laughing, Arthur lets Merlin flip him onto his back and he eagerly leans up to get his lips back on Merlin’s. His eyes shining, Merlin chuckles softly and lies down on Arthur before catching his lips in a hard kiss and pressing him into the pillow.

Arousal pulses through him as their hard cocks slide against each other and he pants against Merlin’s lips. He’s surrounded by Merlin’s scent and warmth and it’s even better than the protective shield he creates with the selenite crystals. But that’s a bit sappy, so he doesn’t tell Merlin that.

They spend ages making out, moaning against each others lips and grinning at each other whenever they separate for a few seconds. Eventually, Arthur gropes for the lube and wraps Merlin’s hand around it.

Merlin grins down at him. “Yeah?”

Arthur pulls up his knees and spreads his legs around Merlin as he nods eagerly. “Yeah. Please.”

His eyes sparkling with that warm fondness that Arthur adores, Merlin settles between Arthur’s knees and kisses his thigh while he lubes up his fingers.

Arthur’s hole is twitching with anticipation and he pants down at Merlin until those wonderful, slick fingers finally slide into him, stretching his hole and feeling so damn good. Groaning, Arthur thrusts down against Merlin’s fingers, fucking himself as he lets his eyes drift closed.

“Jesus Christ,” Merlin mutters, his voice tight. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look right now?”

Grinning, Arthur opens his eyes a bit and stares at Merlin as he stretches his arms out and spreads his knees wider, putting on a bit of a show. “Give me another finger.”

Merlin slides in a third one and he’s holding his fingers still as Arthur happily fucks himself on them and moans loudly, arousal pulsing through him as he shakes and his cock aches. “Fuck, that feels good.”

If he weren’t so distracted by feeling good, Arthur would laugh at Merlin’s wide eyes as he’s stroking his own cock and letting his eyes slowly roam up and down Arthur’s body.

Seeing Merlin sliding his slick hand up and down his hard cock makes Arthur whine and he pulls off Merlin’s fingers. “Don’t let your hand have all the fun. I have a much better place for your cock to be.”

Merlin lets out a shaky laugh as he fumbles to tear the condom package open and slide it on. “Oh, do you?”

“Yes, I do. And I know you’ll like it better than your hand. I’m willing to offer a hundred percent guarantee on that.”

Chuckling, Merlin slicks up his cock before dropping the lube. Lining himself up, he nudges the blunt heat of his cock against Arthur’s loose, slick hole before slowly sliding in.

Arthur closes his eyes and makes a stupid, happy sound in his throat as Merlin fills him up and grips his thighs.

Merlin makes a choked sound. “Well, that’s the quickest anyone’s ever kept their promise to me,” he mumbles, his voice tight.

Laughing, Arthur opens his eyes and carefully wraps his legs around Merlin. He wants to say something witty in response, but he’s just desperate to get fucked.

Thankfully, they’re on the same page and Merlin grips his legs tight and starts thrusting into him, quickly settling into a hard pace as Arthur presses his hands against the headboard to brace himself.

“Fuck, you’re so damn gorgeous,” Merlin gasps out, his hips smacking into Arthur’s ass as Arthur eagerly lifts his hips to meet his thrusts.

Panting and moaning up at Merlin, Arthur can’t stop smiling at the awe in Merlin’s eyes and the happy smile on his face as he fucks him hard. Arthur’s heart pounds and there’s a warm feeling growing in his stomach as he keeps staring at Merlin. Every part of him is being filled with Merlin and that’s the way his life should be all the time.

Eventually, Merlin’s thrusts start to lose their rhythm and he gently releases his grip on one of Arthur’s legs so he can wrap it around Arthur’s stiff cock and fist it in time with his thrusts.

Moaning, Arthur presses his hands against the headboard as he races towards his orgasm, arousal pounding through him as Merlin pushes him closer to release. It feels so damn good that his orgasm takes him by surprise when his body tenses up and he’s coming, covering his stomach in warm cum and clenching around Merlin’s cock.

Once he’s done, his legs slide off Merlin but he manages to keep himself braced against the headboard until Merlin lets out a choked cry and comes.

Arthur’s shaking head to toe and he barely notices when Merlin gently pulls out and gets rid of the condom before collapsing next to him. They lie sprawled out, panting softly and staring up at the ceiling until Arthur manages to roll over enough to see Merlin.

Turning his head, Merlin manages a weak grin. “That was much better than dinner.”

Arthur chuckles. “I’ve eaten in all the best restaurants in England and I agree with you.”

Laughing too, Merlin rolls over and slides closer to Arthur, wrapping his arm around him. They’re close enough to breathe the same air and Arthur easily closes the gap between them to kiss Merlin’s panting, smiling lips. He can’t remember ever feeling so happy just lying next to somebody in bed and that makes him even more determined to not screw up this second chance that Merlin’s given him.

* * *

To Arthur’s joy, settling into a relationship with Merlin is just as great as he thought it would be the first time around. Only this time, Arthur is being much more careful to do more listening and less judging when Merlin tells him something new.

Once Arthur has truly come to grips with everything that’s recently changed in his life, he decides it’s finally time to tell his father everything. He knows Uther will be sceptical and if things don’t go well, at least the rest of his life is in good shape.

Not wanting to have the conversation at the office, he waits until he’s having dinner at his father’s home. Morgana usually attends their weekly dinners too but Arthur had asked her to skip this one so he could have some time alone with Uther. The other reason he wants to have this conversation at his childhood home is because he’d been thrilled to discover that he can often hear his mother when he’s here. Unlike when she’s at Arthur’s flat, here she’s usually sharing memories that feature her spending time with Uther when they were younger. Arthur’s been quietly collecting the information she’s been giving him so he can use it to prove his abilities to his father. Hopefully, he’s gathered enough. Once that step was done, he’d also practised his speech with Merlin so he’ll stay on track no matter what his father’s reaction will be.

Not wanting to stress them out or cause issues during dinner, Arthur keeps the conversation light until they’re done eating and go into living room. Arthur pours them both a drink and hands Uther his before having a seat on the couch.

His father remains standing and frowns down at him. “Are you ready to tell me what’s on your mind? Or better yet, are you finally ready to tell me how on earth you knew about that lullaby?”

Surprise makes his eyebrows rise. “I thought I was doing a good job pretending this was going to be a casual visit.”

Uther rolls his eyes and smiles. “I’m your father. I know when something’s on your mind. I didn’t want to push because I knew you’d tell me eventually. But I’d like to know what’s going on.”

Taking a deep breath, Arthur sips his drink and gestures to the couch. “You may want to sit down.”

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Uther carefully sits down next to him.

Originally, Arthur had thought he should lead into things but that’s not the Pendragon way and it would only annoy both of them. It’s best to jump right in. “Father, I know the words to the lullaby my mother used to sing to me because I heard her spirit singing it. I’m a medium. I can hear a spirit’s memories.”

Uther blinks. “You’re...a medium.”

“Yes.”

Taking a deep breath, Uther lowers his drink. He looks upset. “Arthur, I know you’ve been struggling with some mental issues. Morgana told me. Don’t worry, she didn’t betray your confidence, but she told me months ago that you were having some issues and it might be serious. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time around Emrys but if he’s been filling your head with nonsense to explain what’s going on with you then—”

“Father, stop. Please. It’s not nonsense and I can prove it to you. Believe me, I didn’t understand what was happening to me for a long time and I didn’t just take Merlin’s word for it. Merlin didn’t jump to that conclusion either. None of us did. We did careful experiments and Merlin was meticulous the entire way through and we came to the conclusion that me being a medium is the only thing that makes sense.”

“You weren’t very fond of Emrys either before you took on the Thomas case. I think it’s worrisome that you spent several days in close proximity with him and now you’re spouting some nonsense.”

Arthur sighs softly and struggles not to smile. His father’s concern is truly touching but it’s also misguided. “Did you read the Thomas case file?”

“Yes. It mentioned nothing about psychic nonsense.”

“Of course not. We couldn’t put that into the report, could we? I wrote the report very carefully but there are some big holes if somebody wants to find them. Not big enough to cause problems in a legal sense, but they’re there. Don’t you think it’s strange how Nimueh Williams suddenly became a person of interest out of nowhere? If somebody had witnessed her being related to the case, don’t you think somebody would have said something twenty years ago?”

That makes Uther frown. “I didn’t catch that omission. How did you know about her?”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. Merlin and I both had visions which Tristan shared with us. Merlin can see memories and I can hear them. I heard Tristan getting upset that somebody was referring to him as Henry and Merlin saw Nimueh coaxing Tristan into her green car. He sketched her and we asked the inn’s landlady, who happened to recognize her. Then we discovered her deceased son was named Henry and we put the pieces together. It all started from information we got from Tristan, who had died twenty years earlier.”

Uther shakes his head. “You must have thought you were hearing something. Henry is a common name.”

“That’s what I thought when this all started, but it doesn’t make sense for my imagination to come up with multiple things that all happen to be completely, a hundred percent true.”

Standing up, his father lets out a long breath and starts pacing around the room. “Tell me more. What else did you hear, under what circumstances did you hear it and what did you do to verify that you were correct? I want to know all of it, step by step.”

Slowly, Arthur starts at the beginning and goes through every single event where he’d heard a spirit communicating with him, whether he’d understood what was happening or not. Uther twitches every single time Arthur mentions his mother, but she’s an integral part of his explanation.

“—and just to make certain you believe me, I waited until I heard her sharing memories of you and her together while she was in here.”

Uther spins around and stares down at him. “In here?!”

Arthur smiles. “Yes. She’s always around you and her presence is especially strong here. She usually visits me at night but she’s started skipping some nights so I think she’s mainly back here with you.”

“Is she saying something now?”

“No, but that’s because I’m blocking everybody out. I didn’t want to be distracted during this conversation. But the last time I came for dinner and we were having drinks in here, I asked her to share a memory that I could use to convince you that I’m not lying and she obliged me.”

Uther blinks rapidly and his hand is shaking around his glass. “What did she share with you?”

Arthur smiles softly. “She was asking you if you’d seen her Puck costume. The two of you were going to act out A Midsummer Night’s Dream but she refused to do it without her Puck costume. Apparently, you’d hidden the hat somewhere as a joke.”

Staring at him, Uther’s eyes widen and he manages to stumble to the couch before sinking onto it. “That’s impossible,” he whispers. “Nobody knew we performed the plays together. I even made her swear never to tell Gaius.”

It’s a struggle to keep his emotions back while Arthur remembers his mother’s laughter and faked outrage at his father having hidden the hat. What he’d loved even more about the memory was hearing his father laugh and deny knowing where the hat was. It was another glimpse into his mother that Arthur loved but it also showed him a side of his father that he’d never heard about and might never get to experience first-hand.

But his main concern is to make sure Uther believes in Arthur’s abilities and won’t react badly to them.

Clearing his throat, Arthur leans forward. “Father, if it bothers you, then I won’t ever bring up my mother again. I only did it in these two occasions because I needed to confirm my abilities to myself and also to you.”

Uther still looks shocked, but now his eyes are becoming a bit moist as he stares at Arthur. “You really heard her voice?”

Arthur smiles. “Yes. I heard you too. You were laughing and she was pretending to be upset that you’d hidden her costume hat.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Uther draws in a shaky breath. Finally, he puts down his drink and scrubs his hands over his face. When he finally looks at Arthur again, he’s calmed down a bit. “This is very hard to believe, but I agree with your assessment. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.” He lets out a deep breath. “So are you sleeping better then?”

“Yes. Merlin’s techniques have helped tremendously and he’s going to start training me on how to better control my abilities.”

Uther frowns. “What exactly are you going to do with them?”

Arthur smiles. It’s something he was going to discuss with Merlin first, but his father would have been next in line anyway so he might as well start here. “I actually wanted to speak to you about that. Working Tristan’s case meant more to me than any other case I’ve ever worked on. And like Merlin, I want to use my abilities to help others. Having these abilities is a privilege and while I don’t fancy being a conduit for every single person who wants to speak to a lost loved one, I’d like to continue combining my normal job with my abilities.”

That makes Uther’s frown deepen. “Your abilities would really only be necessary for cold cases.”

“That’s the conclusion I came to as well. But solving Tristan’s case had such a profound impact on me that I’d like to continue to that work.”

“Working cold cases is a political dead end, you know that.”

Arthur smiles softly. “I realise that but I don’t care. My aspirations to become an inspector as fast as possible have faded. I don’t care about that any more. I want to continue learning about my abilities and using them to help with the cases where using only traditional methods haven’t led anywhere. There are so many spirits out there who have been waiting for decades for somebody to listen to them and solve their cases so they and their loved ones can move on and focus on the joyful times they shared. I’m one of the few people in the world who can hear them and I’m in a unique position that I can take on their cases without having to jump through a dozen hoops.”

Uther stares at him for a long moment, but Arthur stares back, keeping his gaze even. Finally, Uther nods. “Fine. If it makes you happy, then I’ll reassign you to the cold case division.”

“Thank you, father. I know it doesn’t seem like you’re doing me a favour, but I know I’m going to look back on this and remember it was the best career move I’ve ever made.”

“But I do have one condition...”

Arthur frowns. “Alright. What is it?”

“I’ll want to know what details you leave out of your report. I’m finding this whole thing...interesting.”

That makes Arthur’s frown turn into a smile and he nods. “I will, don’t worry.”

* * *

“So that went much better than I thought it would,” Merlin remarks once Arthur’s home and sprawled out on Merlin’s chest while they’re lying in bed.

“Yes, it was a pleasant surprise,” Arthur mumbles, his chin propped up on Merlin’s chest. “But I think I have my mother to thank for that.”

Merlin smiles as he slowly rubs Arthur’s back. “She’s the best at dealing with him, huh? It’s also a good sign that he wants to hear about other interactions you have with spirits. It might even mean he’s willing to talk about your mum one of these days.”

Arthur smiles sadly. “I hope so, but I think that’ll take more time. At least the conversation went well so I think it’s a great first step.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Arthur chuckles. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Oh, hush. Yes, you could have.”

“No, I couldn’t. Shut up and take the credit I’m shoving at you, Emrys.”

Merlin laughs and leans down to kiss Arthur’s forehead before lying back down. “Fine, I will.”

Arthur rubs Merlin’s chest and smiles up at him. “Speaking of not being able to do something without you, will you have time in your busy schedule to help me with some cold cases? I’ll have heaps to choose from and I’d love to have my favourite partner by my side.”

A grin spreads over Merlin’s face. “Any day, any time. Well, except when I’m teaching classes.”

Laughing, Arthur feels his heart fluttering with that warmth he always feels when he’s around Merlin. “This is going to be a lot of fun.”

His eyes shining, Merlin runs his hands up to Arthur’s face and slides down until they’re face to face. “Yes, it will,” he whispers and leans up to catch Arthur’s lips in a soft kiss.


End file.
